#Secretary Dean Winchester | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queen-of-deans-booty · 4 months ago

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Don't Take Her For Granted

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: angst, feeling like second best, fluff at the end

Request by @jessicalynnann: What about one where Jensen wishes he had a normal life with the reader but his wish comes true and he is married to some one else and he is a sports therapist and the reader is his secretary and she gets treated like shit by him and his wife but the only way to break the spell is for him to get the reader to fall in love with him some how

Summary: You and Jensen can’t have what’s normal to most because he’s famous. You’re usually okay with it, but there always comes a tipping point in which you can’t recover from. Jensen’s world is turned upside down, and it’s up to him to figure out how to make things right.

Square Filled: “If I like her, shoot me.” (2021) for @spnquotebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Life hasn’t always given you what you wanted, but you’ve always had what you needed in the form of Jensen Ackles. He’s been your rock, your safe haven, and your best friend all rolled into one person. Tonight, you two are celebrating your one year marriage anniversary despite dating for nearly five years before that.

This is something you’ve been looking forward to all month and it’s finally here.

Jensen booked a night at one of the most expensive restaurants in town where you have to dress fancy in order to get in. You haven’t had a night off in so long so you were excited to dress up and do your hair and makeup. Jensen has been so busy finishing the 15th season of Supernatural and filming wrapped up last week.

You're so proud of the man he is and you love what he’s done not only for himself but for his fans. Still, you’re kind of happy he’s not actively in another job right now so that you two can focus on yourselves.

Jensen pulls up to the valet and both of you get out in front of the very nice restaurant. Jensen hands his keys to the valet and pulls you in closer.

“Happy anniversary,” he grins.

“Happy anniversary, baby.” You two walk to the front door of the restaurant when you hear Jensen’s name being called. You two look to the right and see two young girls smiling widely. They’re both wearing Dean Winchester shirts that look like they’ve been in the washer one too many times. Still, they look so happy to be seeing their favorite actor. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

Jensen breaks away from you and walks over to the girls who are head over heels for him. He’s polite and signs what they want signed and takes pictures with them. He keeps their interaction brief before returning to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You two head into the restaurant and approach the hostess’s table. “Party of two for Ackles.”

“Right on time. Right this way,” she grins and grabs two menus. She escorts you back to your table, and you sit across from Jensen. “Here are two menus. Your waitress will be over shortly.”

“Thank you,” you smile. You pick up your menu and look through the appetizers. “Wow, these options all look so good.”

“Get a few. Whatever you don’t eat, we can take home. I know how much you love leftovers.”

It’s true, you do. You always order more than you can eat just so you have something to bring home. A young woman walks over to the table, and you set your menu down to give her your full attention.

“Hi, welcome in. My name is Hannah. Can I start you off with any drinks?”

“Yes. I’d like a glass of your Rosé, please.”

“A beer is fine for me, thank you,” Jensen chimes in.

“Great. I’ll let you look over the menu a little longer and put those in for you.”

She leaves and you look at Jensen who is browsing the menu.

“So, Tammy’s wedding is coming up and as her Maid of Honor, I have to plan the bachelorette party for her. I was thinking of a scavenger hunt type thing since I know she loves those. If it’s okay with you, I wanted to create a list of things to buy and that would be the scavenger hunt that way Tammy gets presents as well as the bridesmaids. What do you think?”

“I think that’s great. Sounds like you’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Is everything okay?”

Jensen puts his menu down and sighs. “I wanted to wait until later to tell you this but you need to know now before you plan any wedding events with me. I got offered a role for The Boys. The money is good. A little less than Supernatural, but I think this could be good for us.”

Whatever good mood you had is now gone. You don’t want to show him how disappointed you are but you can’t help it.

“Jensen, you know how happy I am for you, but you just got done with Supernatural. I thought we agreed to take a break for a little bit to spend more time together.”

“Filming doesn’t start for another month.”

You really don’t want to let this ruin your night and it will if you continue to talk about this.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow and just enjoy the night?”

“Sure.”

The waitress comes back with the drinks and you two put your orders in. You’re about to talk more about your sister’s wedding when two men come up to the table shyly at first.

“Sorry to interrupt your evening, but our girlfriends are big fans of Supernatural, and they would kill us if we didn’t at least ask for a picture. Do you mind?”

Jensen looks at you to see your eyes cast down. You grab your wine glass and take two big gulps. Maybe alcohol will numb your senses. You don’t say anything because you know whatever it is will be rude, so you opt for silence.

“Sure.”

The two men go on either side of your husband, and one of them takes a few pictures. The man to the right takes out a notepad and a pen, and you resist an eye roll. You don’t mean to be rude but this is supposed to be a special night for you and Jensen. Still, you don’t want to make a scene so you keep your mouth shut. Jensen signs the paper quickly, whatever will get them away faster.

“Thanks, man. You’re awesome!”

The two men leave, and you look at Jensen silently.

“No more distractions for the night.”

“Okay,” you say, unconvincingly.

Since Jensen has a bladder the size of a pea, that one beer is enough to make him want to pee. The food comes but Jensen is already out of his seat.

“I’ll be right back. Go ahead and start without me.”

“No, I’ll wait,” you smile.

Jensen pees fast so it’s not long until he’s coming out of the bathroom, but he’s stopped by one of the managers. The bathroom is in direct view from where you’re sitting so you can see all of this happening. First, you think something is wrong until Jensen and the manager shake hands with smiles on their faces. The manager takes out his phone and snaps a few photos with Jensen, and that’s the last straw for you.

Now you’re pissed.

Jensen knows you’re waiting for him. He knows the food on the table. Yet he continues to chat with the manager as if they’re lifelong friends catching up. You don’t want to start eating and be almost done before he gets back. By the time Jensen comes back to the table, the food isn’t hot anymore.

“Sorry, I got stopped by the manager,” he says as if you didn’t watch the whole exchange.

“I want to leave. Let’s go home.”

“Y/N.”

“Jensen, the food is cold now. I want to go home unless you still need to take pictures with the bartender. I’m sure he wants one.”

Jensen grows annoyed but he doesn’t say anything that he knows will make the situation worse. Instead, he puts more than enough cash down on the table and grabs his jacket. The entire ride home is filled with tense silence. Even when you get home, you get ready for bed without a word. You didn’t eat anything but you’re too pissed to want to eat something now.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re always sorry,” you say and walk out of the bathroom.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N? I can’t control people coming up to me in public.”

“No, you can’t, but how about try telling them no for a change instead of giving them what they want?”

“So, what, you don’t like my fans now?”

It’s just like Jensen to take your words and spin them. You grab your extra pillow and slam it on the bed angrily.

“I didn’t say that. You know I adore what you do. I love the fan base you have built. Don’t ever think I won’t support that side of you, but this night was our one year anniversary.”

“I wish I could turn it off. I wish I had a normal life, but this is what’s normal for me… for us. You knew that when you started dating me. You agreed to that when you married me.”

You sigh tiredly and sag your shoulders. You take off your rings and put them in the small seashell Jensen found on the beach one day that you keep on your bedside table.

“I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“I love you.”

You can’t hide the sadness in your smile. This part of his life sucks but you have to find out how to make lemonade with it.

“I love you, too.”

You two get into bed and fall asleep easily. When Jensen wakes up the next morning, he’s alone in bed. He feels the sheets but they’re cold which means you’ve been up for a while. He sits up and wipes the sleep out of his eyes when he notices it. The decor in the bedroom is different. Gone are all of your things, even the small seashell on the bedside table. The walls are void of pictures and the small trinkets you painted and put up. He jumps out of bed and runs into the bathroom but the same thing greets him.

Your side of the sink is free of all of your clutter, bobby pins, stray pieces of hair, and the faint smell of hair products. He runs out of his room hoping to see you on the couch but he pauses before he can get far. Everything in his place is completely different. There is no evidence that a woman has ever lived here. Did you pack up your shit in the middle of the night and leave? He takes out his phone and looks through it, but all evidence of you has been wiped from it. No photos of you two on the couch when you were being lazy. No photos of you two in clay masks when you two had a spa night. No photos of your life with him.

What the hell?

His panic is interrupted by a call on his phone. He sees your name pop up, so that’s proof he still knows you.

“Where the hell is all of your things? What is going on?” he answers the call. “Where are you?”

“Um, work where you’re not. Your eight am is here. Are you on your way or should I reschedule?”

“What? What are you talking about? Did you pack up all your things and move out in the middle of the night?”

“Jensen, what are you talking about? Are you coming to work or not?”

He thinks it’s better to have a conversation with you face-to-face, so he decides not to freak out right now.

“Yeah, I’m on my way. Send me the address.”

He hangs up the phone and you look at the phone with a weird expression. Maybe he had too much to drink last night. Still, you do as you’re told and send him the address to the place he comes to every single day without fail.

“Mr. Ackles is running a bit late. I apologize for the inconvenience, but if you have a seat, he’ll be in shortly,” you say to his client.

“Sure. Thanks.”

You open up the chat window you’re using to talk to your friend and briefly read through the messages again to remind yourself of what you’re talking about. Right. Jensen.

You: Guess who is late? For a man who has been punctual for as long as I’ve known him, he sure had a lot to drink last night. He asked me for the address.

Kristy: At least you get a break from him, right?

You: I’m so sick and tired of this shit, K. If he’s not late, it’s the way I schedule his clients. If it’s not that, it’s the way the food is cold when I bring it to him. I can’t do any good in this man’s eyes.

Kristy: You know, I read about this in a book once where the secretary falls in love with her boss.

You: If I like him, shoot me.

The front doors open and Jensen comes strolling in looking disheveled and concerned. He slaps his hand on the counter and you back up slightly from how intense he’s being.

“What the hell is going on? All of your things are gone. It’s like we’re not even married anymore.”

Okay, you were not expecting that. You were expecting him to blame you for scheduling a client at eight in the morning even though he told you to, but you weren't expecting him to blurt out that you’re married. You put up a lot from him, but this is where you draw the line.

“Sir, I put up a lot from you, but this is inappropriate,” you sutter.

“What?”

“Your eight am is here waiting for you.”

“To do what? What is this place?”

“How much did you have to drink last night?” you whisper. All he does is give you a confused look. “Look, Mr. Ashby is here for his first appointment for therapy. He injured his leg while playing football. You’re his physical therapist. I know you like to drink but come on.”

Jensen looks back at the man and shakes his head.

“Reschedule it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just do it, okay?”

Jensen leaves and heads to his office, and you huff out in anger and annoyance. You’d quit on the spot if the benefits weren't so great. You make really good money and your rent is low. You’re not going anywhere no matter how big of a headache Jensen is.

Jensen shuts the door to his office and sinks into his desk chair. There is one person who might make sense of this, so he calls his best friend of almost his entire life.

“What’s up?” Jared asks when he answers the phone.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on but just humor me for a sec, okay? I need the 411 on my life.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You know Y/N?”

“Your secretary?”

It pains him to hear that you’re just his secretary but he pushes past that.

“I swear I’m telling the truth but last night, we were married. We had a life together. I woke up this morning and everything changed.” Jared laughs much to Jensen’s annoyance. “What?”

“You? Married? That’s a good one.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re not the settling down type which is fine, but you haven’t had a steady girlfriend since your prom date in high school.”

“What are you talking about?” Jensen asks, flabbergasted.

“You bring home a new girl every week.”

“What about Y/N?”

“Dude, you hate her. You don’t care about her. You never did.”

Jensen can’t believe what he’s hearing. You? How can he hate you? He fell in love with you the second he laid eyes on you.

“I gotta go.”

He ends the call immediately and just sits back as he tries to process this. After what feels like hours, he does a bit of research on himself to see the type of person he is. He doesn't know much about sports medicine or how to treat injuries, but with extensive research, he feels like he can fake it for today.

He goes through three clients before lunch, and he’s grateful for the break before two more clients. He leaves his office and approaches your desk with a shy smile. You’re putting things in your purse since you’re about to head out for a quick lunch.

“What are you doing for lunch?”

Your shoulders sag knowing what he’s asking you. “Nothing anymore. Do you want the usual?”

“What?”

“Don’t you want me to go all the way across town and get your lunch for you?”

“No, why would I want that?”

You frown. “Because you always want me to.”

“Not today. Do you have lunch plans?”

“I was just about to go get lunch and bring it back. I don’t normally go anywhere just in case you need me.”

Jensen pushes back the feeling of resentment. “Lunch is on me. Have some with me.”

You stand up angrily and glare at him much to his surprise.

“I don’t know what sick game you’re playing but leave me out of it. I just want to come here, do my job, and go home. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says in a soft voice.

“Now, I’m going out to lunch.”

“Okay.”

Jensen watches you storm off with a sigh. He knows he fucked up but he has to try and fix this. If this is his new life, he has to make it better.

A week goes by, and it’s been the most troubling week of his life. This is worse than when he wasn’t given the script until the last minute, and that entire week was full of fuck ups. He hates that you’re not by his side but he’s trying to get used to you being at a distance. He’s been nothing but nice to you but you’re not used to such a sudden change from the man who mistreats you.

Jensen came to work and barely said two words to you, as per usual, so you’re chatting with Kristy over messenger.

You: I don’t know if Jensen was hit in the head but he’s being nice to me. It’s weird.

Kristy: See? It’s the romantic office story I’ve been telling you about. Girl, he’s hot.

You: That doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s an asshole.

Jensen walks out of his office and approaches your desk, so you minimize the chat so he doesn’t see the messages. He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a shiny black Amex card.

“Lunch is on me today.” He sets the card on the desk. “Oh, and before I forget, I’m forced to go to some dinner with people I don’t even like. You’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Get whatever you want, also on me. I’ll pick you up at eight tonight.”

Jensen is gone before you can say anything. You pick up his card and reopen the chat window.

You: He just gave me his credit card and invited me to a dinner tonight. He told me to buy something new to wear.

Kristy: Girl take advantage! Maybe he’s changed.

You: I’ll believe it when I see it.

You’re not a gold digger but you are looking forward to dressing in something nice for a change. You normally don’t go out unless it’s with Kristy, but she lives in another state. You don’t spend much of Jensen’s money, mostly because you’re afraid he’s going to make you pay it back. Still, you spend the rest of the day buying new things and getting prepared for dinner.

The dress is simple and black with a top that accentuates your upper chest. It doesn't show a lot of cleavage but it does show off your shoulders and collarbone. Your hair is down but in soft waves, and you keep your makeup light. Your shoes are open-toed heeled sandals that make your calves look amazing.

The doorbell rings making Jensen right on time. You walk to the front door and open it, and you’re taken aback by how handsome he is. In his hands are flowers, your favorite kind.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” You hate to admit it, but you’re shocked at this. “Here, these are for you.”

“Wow, thank you,” you say and take the flowers. You put the flowers in your kitchen and remove his credit card from your purse. “This is yours. Thank you for the new clothes.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Jensen escorts you to his car and opens the passenger door for you, and you slide into the car with ease. Jensen gets behind the wheel and starts driving to the restaurant.

“Why are you being so nice to me? You’re never this nice to me.”

“I finally appreciate the person you are.”

“Really?” He nods. “In all the time I’ve worked for you, you never once complimented me.”

This makes Jensen’s heart hurt. He briefly looks at you before returning to the road. “I’ve always found you beautiful.” Okay, now you’re shocked. “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I’ll do better.”

You smile but don’t say anything else. Jensen makes it to the restaurant and hands the keys to the valet. He puts his hand on your lower back and escorts you inside the place.

“Jensen!” You look to the right to see a man coming your way. “I knew that was you. What you did for my daughter… She’s never walked better thanks to you.”

“Thanks. I’d love to chat, but I’m here with someone. Maybe next time, okay?”

Jensen leads you away from the man and over to the large table with a bunch of his associates that he has no business being with. The only person here that matters is you. Jensen pulls out your chair, and you sit down with a blush creeping up your neck.

“So, tell me about you.”

“What?”

“What are your likes? Hobbies? I want to know everything about you.”

You’re about to answer when someone across the table calls for Jensen.

“Hey, Jensen, tell Robert about that time you helped Peyton Manning.”

“Not right now. I’m talking to Y/N. Maybe later.”

All throughout the night, Jensen has made you a priority. You didn’t think it was possible, but maybe he has changed. You don't know it yet, but you’re falling for this man instead of the one you thought you knew.

After dinner, Jensen drives you home without any funny business. He walks you to your front door, and you turn to him with a genuine smile.

“Thank you for tonight. I actually enjoyed myself, believe it or not.”

Jensen leans in closer, and you freeze thinking he is going to kiss you. He bypasses your lips and kisses your cheek gently.

“I’d love to take you out on a real date next time, if you’ll let me.”

Your skin tingles from where his lips touched your cheek, and you resist the urge to touch it.

“That can be arranged,” you smile.

“Good. Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Have a good night, Jensen.”

He goes to bed that night with a smile because it’s the first time since switching into this new life that he’s finally okay with it. The sun isn’t even up when Jensen wakes up in the morning, mostly because of the black out curtains that you insisted on putting up when you moved in with him.

Wait.

Jensen shoots up in bed and looks next to him to see you sleeping there with soft snores coming out. Right there on the nightstand is the seashell he found for you. Inside are your rings. The walls are decorated with your trinkets he loves, and he can see the cluttered mess in the bathroom.

He’s back.

Did he dream it all? Was it real? Whatever it was, opened his eyes. Jensen is about to lay back down when he remembered the fight you two had before going to bed. He finally knows what he needs to do. He gets out of bed carefully so as to not wake you, and he walks to the kitchen where his laptop is. He opens iMessage that’s connected to his phone and makes a new message to his agent that scored him the role for The Boys.

Jensen: After some thought, I can’t take the role. I need to focus on my family before I take on new work. Thank you for thinking of me. If the role is still available down the line, I’d be more than happy to take it then.

The next thing he does is go online and browse through the two saved websites he bookmarked a few weeks ago. He wanted to surprise you with a vacation for your one year anniversary, but that’s also when his agent told him about The Boys. You’ve been wanting to go to Hawaii, and he books the perfect package that he knows you’ll love.

When he’s done, he walks back to the bedroom and carefully climbs into bed. He leans over you and presses kisses to your exposed shoulder. You moan tiredly and shift before opening your eyes.

“What time is it?”

“Just after six.”

“What are you doing up this early?”

“Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I was a jerk. You deserve better.”

You sit up and turn the lamp on so that it emits a soft glow in the room.

“I was a jerk, too.”

“I turned down The Boys role.”

“Why?” you gasp.

Jensen leans in and kisses you. “You are my wife. There’ll be other roles. Not another you. I also booked a two-week vacation in Hawaii. We leave tomorrow.”

“What?” You grin widely. “Really?”

“Yes. I love you. I am in love with you. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

You jump into his arms and he falls back with a laugh at your eagerness.

“I love you,” you grin and kiss him.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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228 notes · View notes

jollyhunter · 11 days ago

Text

Dean's tongue lolls to the side, languidly, without any apparent goal as he plays with the chewing gum behind his teeth.

His eyes will soon tell you otherwise.

As the mission commander lays out the specifics of the operation, the sound of buckles of Dean‘s tactical vest rustle softly from across the meeting table. He leans back in the chair with a relaxed pose, the side of his boot casually resting on his knee.

You pause your note-taking, your attention drawn to Dean. When you lift your head to peer over the edge of your clipboard, your breath briefly catches in your throat.

His sharp emerald jewels glance your way from the corner of his eyes, seemingly so casual between all the other people in the room.

Yet they‘d settled on you.

Dean locks eyes with you, makes sure you’re hooked… Before his gaze suddenly flickers down to your lips.

The moment between his next blinks go by like it's a damn slow motion clip.

His lips part just enough for you to watch how his tongue circles the chewing gum, coating it with his saliva. The tip wetting his lower lip in the process. His teeth grazing the soft nub before he swipes it back.

Then it gets tucked behind his molars and he swallows, savoring, like he just tasted you in his mind.

To finish you off, the corner of his lip quirks into a hint of a smirk. He blinks again, and his half-lidded eyes have returned to yours.

That flash of mischievousness, that knowing smile - it was so subtle that one could’ve almost missed it.

But you didn‘t. You had caught a glimpse of that look on his face which always wrecked your mind. Which never failed to send a shiver down your spine, right to your core. Enough that you can practically hear Dean’s deep voice, gravelly and hot next to your ear.

„After the briefing I‘ll bend you over the next table and have you scream so loud that Betty the secretary calls the security.“

Your cheek flushes at the thought.

Eyes still locked.

He blinks once. "Yep, that's right sweetheart."

A moment later his focus returns to the presentation ahead, his muscles twitching again under his scruffy beard when his jaw locks and he starts to chew with a lazy smile on his lips, like nothing happened.

EDIT: I FOUND THE FRIGGIN GIF !!!

A/N: Thank you @bettystonewell for bestowing me with that absolutely wonderful gif of Jensen which led to this quick drabble, cuz I just think it fits BadWolf!Dean PERFECTLY 😩🫶

MASTERLIST

Dean Tag list:

@aylacavebear ♡ @ambiguous-avery ♡ @jc-winchester ♡ @bettystonewell ♡ @lyarr24 ♡ @ladysparkles78 ♡ @v1v1-3

#badwolf!dean x sweetvixen!reader #squadleader!dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester x female!reader #special forces au #spn au #spn #supernatural #spn x reader #dean x you #soft dom! dean winchester x reader #dom! dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #jensen ackles

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mariswxt · 9 months ago

Text

amoralism | two

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Blood, firearms, organised crime, talk of drugs, Agent Dean Winchester, sexual tension, wet dream, awkwardness, unsupportive mom, dramatic sister, consensual crime

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: People I Don’t Like - UPSAHL

materialism

Family dinners took the hell out of you.

They were so awkward, and for what? It was a few hours of pushing food around plates, unwanted conversations and criticisms about your home life and job. Of course your mom wasn’t proud that you were FBI. Were they slightly averse because she carries a truckload of deep seated traditionalism? Definitely.

Your mom, Elena, took a pointed bite of salad as she flitted her eyes disapprovingly between you, your slouching and your less than socially satisfactory manner of eating. Practically assaulting your food with a well timed fork stab and shovelling it in your mouth.

You were a federal agent, not a damn princess.

At least your younger sister had gone to deb balls and beauty pageants and gotten married fresh out of college and landed a job as a secretary for a wealthy CEO in Delaware while you apparently ‘slum it’ and put serial killers behind bars.

Putting your life on the line to make your country a better place. Totally something undesirable, a horrible job, only bozos and hobos would do it.

Your dad, Richard (but he had everyone call him Rick, your mom never listened), was proud of you. More proud than he could put into words. He’d once come to visit you after work to congratulate you on a case that you’d solved (confidential, of course), and his heart burst with pride upon seeing his little girl dressed in a formal suit and storing her government approved handgun.

“Darling?” Your mom trilled in her fancy accent and high pitched voice, which caught your attention. You looked up, halfway through a sip of wine, same as your dad. Holding it wrong. Again, not a princess. “When will you be getting married?”

You almost did a spit take, but swallowed so it wouldn’t happen and coughed as it almost went down the wrong way, Rick doing the same at the exact same time. Your sister, Cassie (short for Cassandra), glanced between the two of you with a look of judgement identical to your mom’s.

They were carbon copies of each other. Same with you and your dad.

“M-Marriage?” You spluttered, still recovering from the notes of chamomile that stung at the back of your throat. Chamomile’s meant to be soothing. “I-I’m a federal - ahem - agent, I don’t have t-time to-” You cleared your throat loudly, “- marry.”

Your mom scoffed, waving you off with a manicured hand. “You blab on about this federal agent business, but we have no clue what kind of cases you deal with.”

“Honey, we can’t push her.” Your dad vouched, and you internally cheered him on, swallowing down a sharp retort with a shovelling down of spaghetti that earned you an eye roll from Cassie and an exasperated sigh from Elena. “Her work is classified.”

“Classified from her family?”

“That’s generally what it means.” You added with a clearing of your throat. “A brief overview of my work in Major Crimes is literally the major crimes. Serial killers, mob bosses, organised crime.”

Your mom gave a loud, false laugh. “Hush, hush. Mafias only occur in dramatised television shows and movies.”

“Elena, you should be proud of our daughter.” Rick sighed, pointedly staring at his wife. “She works to keep everyone safe. Debutante balls and beauty pageants aren’t all the glory.”

And now Cassie was throwing a fit, her blonde hair almost torn out by her pink-painted claws. Jesus, if you went into the office with those monsters? You didn’t even wanna know.

While your mom ticked off your dad for saying such an insensitive thing, you nudged his foot with yours as a silent thank you for defending him. And his foot tapped yours back as if to say don’t apologise.

God, you cherished your dad.

“Don’t pay attention to your mother.” He’d told you in a calm, soft voice as you two steadily worked on the dishes, the quiet noise of the sponge spreading soap suds on the plate not the best ambience but alright all the same. “She’s a little dramatic.”

You raised an eyebrow, getting the itch out from just above your eyebrow using the back of your hand. “A little?”

Rick shrugged, then chuckled. “Alright, you got me there. She’s extremely dramatic. But she’s my wife, and I love her, regardless of whether I think she should take up a role in Broadway.”

“Or a soap opera.” You both shared a laugh, but then you subsided into a rather wistful state of mind. “I just want her to understand that even though I can’t talk about it, I still do something worthy of recognising, right? I mean, not everyone can say they’re one of the best agents Major Crimes has to offer.”

“She’ll come around.” Rick planted a kiss on your temple that felt a little scratchy from his stubble. “I’m so proud of you, y’know that? My little girl’s grown up to be an incredible woman.”

Your phone rang, and you shook your hands off, towelling them before taking out your phone and picking up the call.

‘Took you long enough, princess.’ Agent Winchester’s voice came from the other line, and seems like your dad heard a man’s voice, because his eyebrow raised past what was the beginning of his receding hairline. Princess. It took you back to the night you had your first wet daydream of your case partner, Dean goddamn Winchester, three years ago, working the very case you both were heading now.

Except with much higher stakes.

“You’re far from on my priority list, Agent.” You huffed out a breath, mouthing to your dad to behave as you knew he had the strong urge to find out who exactly you were talking to. And if there was a possibility that he’d need to grab his baseball bat and go warn this guy off breaking your heart.

Federal agent or not, he’d do it. He’d do anything to keep his daughter safe.

‘You’re gonna break this young man’s heart.’

“We’re 35.”

‘Exactly. Young.’ His tone sounded like he was holding off laughter, adopting a voice which resembled Mrs Doubtfire. ‘We’re youthful, innocent little whippersnappers-’

“Agent, if you’re just going to waste my time, you better hang up.” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. Your dad gave you a look which said damn, don’t do him like that. In truth, neither of you were exactly innocent. You had unholy, R-rated thoughts of each other every time you did so much as think of each other.

You definitely wanted to do him.

You heard Dean clear his throat, getting back on track. ‘Right. Yeah. So, there’s some of our double agents in crime circles that reported back to me after I dropped ‘em a little message. They’re sayin’ that there’s an auction happening at a charity gala in a week, and they’re pawning off this necklace-’

“Yeah, you’re wasting my time.” You scoffed, wondering why he was into getting jewellery. Unless it was to pacify a girl he two timed. Then again, he could probably do it with his panty-soaking, money-winning grin, smooth winks and some cheap pickup line he stole off the Internet.

‘Hey, let me finish. The necklace has a USB chip inside. It contains videos of our syndicate’s work, so if we get a hand on that, we know what we’re dealing with.’ He chuckled at his own brilliance, making you roll your eyes at his ego. ‘And, uh, you’re about to pick apart and criticise my plan by saying that there’s no way in hell that we have the money to buy that thing, so… I talked to Director Singer, and he had a chat with the board and they gave us a pass for as many consensual crimes as needed.’

“So, where do we factor in all this?” You asked, making a mental note of everything he was telling you.

‘That’s the fun part. We got invites to that event, so we’re gonna go together as a doting, wealthy married couple and steal it.’

“It’s not my first undercover gig, so as long as we don’t run into any complications, it could work.”

‘So, I’ll see you at my place tomorrow to discuss logistics. I’ll make sure Sammy- Detective S. Winchester - is out of the house.’

“Alright. Bye.” You cut the call, and spotted your dad smiling proudly at you. His eyes twinkling, and his steady scrubbing hand paused. “What?”

Dean’s back hit the bed, your lips moving up to claim his exposed throat and freckled, exposed chest, making a steady trail to his shoulder and nipping until there was a forming hickey. His breath laboured, mind spinning and body on autopilot. He could feel your nails over his abs, tracing and mapping out every contour, his eyes locking on you, looking like a vision in black lace, a garter and pretty, matching, sheer, thigh-high nylons.

He was always a sucker for a woman in lingerie.

“God, baby, c’mere.” He groaned, hands finding purchase on the backs of your thighs and yanking you forward, settling you closer as his hand teased at the hem of your panties, one sharp flick of his wrist tearing the flimsy material and leaving it beyond repair, drawing a gasp and barely restrained whine from you. He chucked the remains off the bed, that hand, already glistening from having touched your soaked panties, found your cunt, sliding his fingers back and forth before roughly thrusting two up and into your soaked pussy, crooking them just right in order to have you clamping down and already rocking up and down desperately. “So tight. Gonna ride my fingers already, sweetheart?”

“Mmh- mhmm.” Was all you could get out, barely noticing how his free hand reached behind you to unclip your bra, propping himself up so he could latch his mouth onto your nipple and suck, causing you to mewl and let out an even more sinful moan right as his thumb found your clit right as the pad of his index found your g-spot, his third finger joining the party and pressing on it.

Layering and layering and layering until your mind was blank, thighs shaking, mouth open and eyes rolling back until they saw stars and the brief outline of God.

Looks like he does have a beard.

“Dean, g-god-” You were cut off by a moan, biting your lip, and Dean nodded encouragingly, free hand reaching up to cup your cheek, thumbing at your bottom lip to ease it free.

“Waited so long for this.” He murmured. “Gotta hear you. Look so pretty, baby-”

“Dean, wake up!” Dean shot up and spluttered when a glass of ice cold water hit him like a bullet train, finding you to be the perpetrator. No lingerie, just a simple sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a loose rope braid over your left shoulder.

Still hot. Still infuriating.

“Woah, hey!” He raised his hands in disbelief before running one down his face to rid him of the water dripping down it, then onto his grey-blue flannel shirt. “The hell was that?! And- how did you get in here?”

You put the glass down in frustration, the sound thudding against Dean’s oak dining table, partially wet from the thrown water. “Sam let me in.”

“Doesn’t answer my first question.”

“You’d been passed out at that table when I got here. Tried to wake you up fifty ways. You sleep like a rhino.” You scoffed, but your eyes couldn’t help but trail down to the way the water traced his jaw, down to the curve of his neck and beneath the neckline of his shirt, which exposed a hint of defined collarbone. You felt like an eleven year old seeing a man shirtless for the first time. Except you were going feral for a fleeting glimpse of your colleague’s collarbone, watching the way his flannel clung to his frame.

You were beginning to get the tantalising thought of seeing Dean, washing that gorgeous ‘67 Chevy Impala of his. Shirt off, water dripping down his bare torso and giving you an illegal hit of his v-line. And his abs, tracing every contour that you knew was there. It had your body warming up and your thighs clenching and rubbing.

You hoped to God that Dean didn’t see you doing that.

So instead, you took a random kitchen towel and threw it so it hit him right in the face, and he flinched, grabbing the towel off his face and rubbing the water off in a disgruntled fashion as you moved to grab a beer from the fridge. He was irritated beyond belief. He knew you two had unresolved sexual tension that went back in the history books about five years but that was uncalled for. He was your partner on this mole case, and was heading an organised crime case with you, he deserved some respect-

Your ass framed by those jeans. The denim clinging to your legs that went on for days. Goddamn days, ending in sensible lace-up boots. That sweater with a scoop neckline. Your ass in those jeans, the curve of your pretty neck, the pout of those plump lips. Did he mention your ass in those jeans?

Suddenly he didn’t feel so vexed. And… respect? Who needs respect? Who needs… goddamn. Who… needs…

No thoughts. Head empty.

Sweet Jesus.

“What did you say?” Your head turned to face him, eyebrow raised in the middle of sipping your beer, and he realised that he’d muttered that out loud (while also realising he was staring at your lips touching that bottle rim. He’d never wanted to be a glass bottle more in his life.). He snapped out of it, blotting his flannel gingerly with the towel. Missing the way your eyes locked on how it pressed flush against his chest (you’d never wanted to be a plaid shirt in your life, but times seem to change).

“Nothin’, Agent.” Dean cleared his throat, shaking his head to rid him of the bad, bad, unprofessional thoughts clouding his head. But god, did he need you bad.

He might get through a whole box of tissues tonight.

“Kyle, what do you mean, you don’t know how to use a washing machine?” You asked with a scoff, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear as you spoke to your cousin Kyle, who was in college. Of course, it was the first time he’d ever worked a washing machine on his own and of course, you were the first one he called.

‘It’s not something I’m used to, ok?’ He was scared of your mom, his mom (your aunt Olivia) and Cassie, and you taught your dad and his dad - uncle Tom - how to use the washing machine so Elena wouldn’t go on a rant about men’s uselessness when it comes to household chores.

You took out a paper and pen, writing down a list of instructions as quickly as you could in your nearest handwriting possible, and then you put your phone on speaker, snapped a photo and sent it. “There. All set. I’ll write up a small guide on how to work the rest of your appliances, I’m just knees deep in an investigation.”

‘You’re a lifesaver, I’m indebted to you for the rest of my life.’

“This is a washing machine, not selling your soul. You don’t owe me. Now, see you on Thanksgiving. Bye, Kyle.” You cut the call in time for the doorbell to ring, and you rolled your eyes.

You get no breaks nowadays.

But when you opened the door, you were met with pearly way-too-whites, bouncing ginger hair and shiny blue eyes, complete with what looked like five neon-coloured dress carriers. “Why hello there, babes!” She trilled, sashaying in with her faux fur-trim coat. You rolled your eyes again, but playfully and partially in relief. “I got your message and came as quick as I could.”

“Hey, Dré.” You smiled wearily, closing the door behind her. Andréa May-Reynolds was your best friend since the early days of high school and probably the only person you could tolerate who cared that inexplicably much about their looks. You’d texted her for help with the dress picking for your undercover gig (but you told her it was merely one of your mom’s gatherings as she was a socialite). “Thanks for coming, exorcism I texted you ten minutes ago.”

She waved you off, tutting rapidly. “It’s my job. Whenever a friend has a fashion emergency, I need to be there.” Andréa started rifling through the clothes options she brought. “Ok, so, you mentioned a plus one. Who is he, cause we need to decide whether we want the option Lukewarm, Getting Warmer, Pretty Warm or Smoking Hot.”

You knew that she knew the name you were about to say, so you said it. “Dean Winchester.”

You almost pulled out your firearm with the scream she let out.

“God, Andréa!” You hissed, rubbing your ear while Andréa searched through her selection and pulled out one bright red case.

She just squealed again, giggling. “Dean Winchester? Never thought I’d hear that name again. Smoking Hot ain’t gonna cut it for him, you need the Nuclear option.”

“There’s a nuclear option now?”

“Duh.” She ceremoniously yanked out a dress and held it out for you. “Try it on.”

You took the dress from her with a raised eyebrow and disappeared off into your bedroom upstairs to change. When you looked yourself in the mirror with the dress on, you didn’t recognise yourself. In all honesty, you probably looked ridiculous.

But when you made your way downstairs, trying not to trip on the fabric, you almost did fall when you heard Andréa’s shrill shriek of delight.

Jesus, you thought as you grabbed the railing, she’ll be the death of me.

“Sammy.” Dean had hurried over to Sam’s place, knocking rapidly on the door while holding a lot of tux choices. “Sammy, open up, it’s me! Dean.”

Sam opened the door with a bleary eye, rubbing it. “Dean, it’s ten in the night- Jess, hon, it’s just Dean!” He called back to Jess, who appeared in the doorway with a nightgown on. “I’ll come back in a minute.” Once Jess had returned to bed, Sam turned to his older brother. “What?”

“Which one?” Dean held up the options, looking between them. “I don’t see the difference, but I thought you would. You’re fancy, I just pick what I see first in the closet.”

“You’re hopeless.” The younger Winchester groaned, rubbing his cheek before gesturing to the options. “It’s an undercover gala, you don’t need to properly think about what to wear.”

“I don’t give a damn about the gala, I hate those fancy schmancy, pretentious excuses of a party. They don’t even have beer.” Dean smirked, then chuckled deep. “It’s about who’s going. Agent Hot Chick.”

“We’re still using that code name?” Sam frowned, hands now on his hips. “She’s our coworker.”

“She’s our smokin’ hot coworker.” Dean waggled his eyebrows and dumped the options on the sofa. “Pick one. C’mon.”

Sam browsed quickly through the options, then picked one out with a low groan. “I need to get paid. Here. Two piece tux, can’t go wrong.”

Dean took the tux, examined it, then hummed. “I can hide my gun in here, right?”

“Yeah. Just take it and go, I want to go to bed. With my wife.”

“Sammy, you sly dog.” He clapped his younger brother’s shoulder. “Well, don’t keep the missus waiting, and I’ll be out of your glorious hair.” Before Sam could react, Dean was out of the door and had left the substandard suits on the couch.

“Glorious hair?” Sam muttered, running a hand through said hair.

He didn’t know what had gotten into his older brother, but he didn’t know whether to be amused or irritated.

Probably both.

The gala itself was nothing short of fancy as hell. Almost like out of a spy movie. Marbled floor, cream walls that looked gold in the lighting, tables of hors d’oeuvres that Dean’s stomach instantly felt a magnetic attraction to.

Fancy snacks are still snacks. Back to the story.

A red carpet that made Dean feel like he was walking in the Met or some movie premiere, with everyone dressed to the nines. Eating snacks.

He popped one into his mouth, chowing down on it and finding that the cheese-based delicacy wasn’t so bad, and he swiped a glass of champagne from a server’s tray in order to blend in.

One sip and he was spluttering, putting it back on a tray again, and that’s when he saw you.

He’d call you a snack, but you were the whole damn buffet.

Dean was pretty sure he was looking at a weapon of mass devastation. To his self control at least - there was a smoking crater in the middle of that. And there were some thoughts in his head that definitely wouldn’t be praised by polite society. He’d be damned for it.

You were clad in dark red silk that melded to your figure, almost like waves on your body, like water. Water had never seemed sexier. Your lips were a shade of scarlet, your clever eyes highlighted by the makeup surrounding it. Your knee just poking out from the slit at the thigh, hands clasped delicately at your midsection.

You looked expensive.

And delicious.

It had Dean’s jaw dropping before he picked it back up, straightening the lapels of his tux and trying to think of non-sexy thoughts so he wouldn’t sport a very visible attraction to his fake wife in polite society. He’d gone the full way, even getting a gold-plated ring so he’d look married and expensive but it also wasn’t too costly. He wasn’t made of money.

He didn’t belong in this party. You definitely did, looking like that.

You were in the very place that you’d been trying to run from again. Fancy parties, posh vocabulary and exaggerated accents. Your mother or Cassie would be a social butterfly in this situation. Not you, you were quaking in your borderline painful heels. Feeling all too out of place in the sweeping curtains, silk, satin and chiffon couture dresses and the gales of fake, exaggerated laughter.

Then there he came, Dean frickin’ Winchester, in a two piece tux. Sure, his bow tie was a little wonky (understatement) but the rest of him had your thighs rubbing together. As usual, he donned a suit that stretched over his well built muscles and gave you a good outline of the contours on his chest, powerful thighs looking good to ride in those trousers. Lips pouting every time he chewed on the delicacy he plucked from a side table and forcing thoughts of those very lips devouring you the same way.

He looked expensive.

He looked irresistible.

The image of the normally cocksure and obnoxiously confident Dean Winchester in high society had you swallowing on a dry throat and thinking un-sexy thoughts to rid you of the incredibly unprofessional ones in your head (one of which included him ripping the dress off your body), all of them sending a quiver down your spine. A very, very good quiver. Oh, god, this wasn’t helping.

You felt out of place here. You didn’t belong here, but Dean certainly did in that getup. You were so absorbed in checking out the stretch of the fabric over his biceps that you missed the way he sipped some champagne and gagged on it.

Then you quickly clacked over in your heels, linking your arm with his to sell the act. “Husband.” You said stiffly, and he nodded back.

“Wife.” He replied, swallowing at the adrenaline rush at having Aphrodite incarnate on his arm. Hell, you might just be Aphrodite in disguise. He could never tell.

“Alright, by inside intel, the necklace is kept upstairs in a six inch safe carbon and iron steel alloy safe with a biometric lock. We have no welders on us, and the case is fingerprint security.” You muttered while crunching a breath mint between your teeth. You never know, the locals may demand a kiss and you’d be damned if you got teased for bad breath.

“And how do you propose we breach that, honey?” Dean got out through a forced smile.

You smirked, the plan in your head. “I’ve got a blush compact in my holster. And a tape roll. We can get the print through that easily enough.”

“That holster deserves a medal.” He murmured to himself, then steered her towards a group. “We need to mingle. We’re not single, but blending in and finding a way to go upstairs is best, if you know what I mean.”

Mhmm. You very much got it, and it thrilled you slightly.

You had no time to dwell on the thought as an elderly group of women caught your attention and trilled for you two to come over. “What a lovely young couple.” One crowed, gesturing to the both of you. “Married, I’m assuming?”

Dean drew you closer into his chest, and your hand landed there by impact- a solid goddamn wall. Oh, holy mama. He let out a low chuckle, pumping his eyebrows. “Ma’am, you can’t find a woman this gorgeous and not, to quote Miss Knowles, ‘put a ring on it’.”

“Oh, honey, such a flirt!” You laughed in a posh accent, mimicking your mother’s laugh to the best of your ability while you swatted Dean’s chest. He smirked at the look in your eyes, because goddamn was it obvious that you hated this.

“Darlin’, I can’t help myself around you.” He turned to the other charity goers with a proud smirk, gesturing to all of you. “Can’t keep my hands off my gorgeous wife. Might have to have something off the menu for dessert, if you catch my drift.” He winked at some elderly ladies, who giggled and waved him off.

“Such a charming boy.” One cooed, obviously eyeing Dean up with poorly restrained envy. While you looked around for your target, you missed the way Dean’s eyes travelled down your body in that form-fitting red dress, v-neck, v-back, thigh slit where he knew you had a thigh holster strapped in, all the good stuff. And his eyes were on those scarlet heels.

He was imagining ramming into you with those sexy things on. And that dress, well, it’d be off in second if he had the chance. And that lipstick? Well, it’d be smeared and leaving prints on his neck, chest, abs and- that’s going a bit too unprofessional.

“I’d go as far as to say I had gotten myself a catch.” You affirmed, but inside you were rolling your eyes. You didn’t expect to spend the evening complimenting Agent Winchester of all people. “He’s so firm, ladies.”

Dean laughed deeply, one which you knew didn’t have only your thighs rubbing and pressing together on instinct. “I take immense care of my physical appearance. I’d do anything for my darlin’.”

“And you look handsome.” You straightened his bow tie and made a show of biting your lip and looking him over, which got a sly smirk on his face. All forced, and you knew he couldn’t tell that you actually meant the comment. He looked sexy, not just damn handsome. In fact, words failed you when it came to describing Dean in high society.

Scrubbing your hand with an antiseptic wipe wasn’t an option when he took your hand, lifted to his mouth and kissed your knuckle. Those warm, plump weapons of destruction corrupting your newly purified and professional brain.

Expertly sowing thoughts of them travelling down your neck and sucking on the skin in your dirty mind.

Brain malfunctioning.

Brain.exe has shut down.

Hail whichever deity’s the Almighty because you got the pleasure of feeling this man’s lips on your skin.

You’d felt them on your temple and cheek when you’d last worked a case with him, but after being deprived of his contact for five years now made you like a nun breaking her chastity vow, if they have one.

You had no idea how nunhood worked.

You couldn’t be bothered to find out when this man next to you was robbing you of coherent words or thoughts.

“While you look stunning, my love.” Dean murmured, shooting you a quick wink that would’ve had an average Jane swooning over.

Damn Dean Winchester and his ability to flirt.

Damn Dean Winchester for being a lady killer. Damn him to hell.

“Such lovebirds. My husband Terrance and I were like that once, all over each other. The magic of youth, I dare say.” One lady fawned, but her husband - Terrance - tugged on her arm.

“Edna, we’re in polite and present company, let’s not regurgitate details of our marriage.” He muttered, leading Edna away, which dispersed the other partygoers. You smirked at Dean, fixing the neckline of your dress (which he didn’t waste a moment ogling, which would arguably be in character).

“Shame.” You clicked your tongue, outwardly and inwardly amused. “I liked Edna.”

“I feel for Terrence, if I’m being honest.” Dean snickered, then nudged you. “You ready to go upstairs for a lil’ somethin’-somethin’?” That statement earned a swat to the back of his head, and he shrank away from you in shock. “Woah, hey, not actually going up there to get some, alright? We’re on a federal investigation, I’m not about to bang my partner. Jesus, woman.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Just pretend to be all over me, ok?”

You rolled your eyes, but obliged as Dean steered you both to a guard waiting by the stairs. “Mmh, honey,” You purred, your lips faux-chasing his neck, as Dean veered away from them reluctantly.

“Hey, man, do you have a place where my wife and I can get some privacy?” Dean’s strong hand took a hold of your waist and pulled you flush against his side. “Can’t keep my hands off ‘er. Women, am I right?”

“Upstairs, sir.” The guard let you two through, both of you falsely laughing until you reached the top of the stairs. Then you switched the moment you were out of earshot, dropping character.

“Nice job, honey.” Dean drawled, smirking. “Got a firearm under that dress?”

“Of course I do.” You snorted, shaking your head. Dean smirked at you when your head was turned, with a look that said that’s my girl. “What am I, an idiot? C’mon, we’ve got work to do.” You managed to try each door until you found one conveniently locked, so you took a hairpin, bent it and then your leg, kneeling so you could jimmy the thing in the lock, rotating the chassis (at least it might be that, you never paid attention to lock anatomy) and getting the door open.

“Good girl.” Dean muttered under his breath so you wouldn’t hear, stepping inside and shutting the door quietly. There were no secret triggers (you had to mentally steel yourself so you wouldn’t throttle Dean and his constant use of ‘booby traps’), so you just immediately took out your compact powder case and a blush applicator, evenly coating it in powder and dabbing it on the sensor before unhooking the tape roll, using a canine to rip off a piece of tape before placing it on, which successfully opened the lock with an electrical series of beeps. “Nice one. A’ight, now grab that necklace and let’s book it.”

“Not that easy.” You pouted in thought. That sent Dean to unholy places. All while your eyes were focused on the opal-studded jewellery in front of you. “It’s a weight sensor. We need something roughly the same weight.”

“Your heels?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I borrowed these from a friend, no way in hell am I leaving it here.”

“You have friends, sweetheart?” He snickered, but winced slightly when you sharply kicked him in the shin with the heel of your left stiletto. He had to fight the urge to grab the afflicted area and howl because holy hell, physics wasn’t lying about the pressure equation thing.

Pressure equals force over area multiplied by a whole lot of pain.

You looked around, then saw a small crystalline trophy thing. So you grabbed it, then prepared to make the switch. You took a deep breath in and then out, then switched it. And waited. To your disappointment and shock, the weight sensor must’ve been to a T because the pedestal sank and the room flashed red, an alarm going off.

Dean’s hand enveloped yours, tugging you out of the room at breakneck speed (you figured out in this time that you weren’t a dab hand at running in heels and had to awkwardly hop and take them off along the way), pulling you both into a side room when you heard approaching voices. Doors were being opened and rooms checked, so you had to think quick.

Oh, you were sure to regret this later.

Your hands flew to unbutton Dean’s suit jacket, get it on the floor before getting his bow tie undone and shirt along with it, untucking it and letting it hang open. You tried not to get distracted by the kissable canvas of taut, toned muscle that was his chest, while you reached up to your own lips, smearing the lipstick and then transferring some to his without lip-to-lip contact.

He was flabbergasted.

“Sweetheart,” Dean let out a nervous yet rough chuckle, “I love frisky women, don’t get me wrong, but don’t you think this isn’t the right time-”

“Shut up.” You hissed, then grabbed his hand and put it under the silk of your dress, through the slit and onto your thigh. “Now, act like you’re about to kiss my neck.”

Dean short circuited, and so did you. Hands. On legs. Bare legs. Need a bed. Even a table will do- keep it professional.

His eyes locked on the curve of your neck as you let your head tip back, and his hand went on autopilot, cupping the back of your neck. He leaned forward, and your skin was right there, begging to be kissed, but he hovered right there. Dean’s lips were inches away from your heated skin and it was killing the both of you.

His fingers itched to take the zip of your dress, yank it down and see what was underneath.

But even as he was about to give in, shake hands with the loss of his professionalism and ravish you till the sun came up, the door burst open and in came a guard, who instantly muttered an apology at seeing yours and Dean’s more than dishevelled state.

Ay, dios mío.

Wilkins Street Bank was shut down. SWAT teams surrounding it, along with multiple NYPD vans. An officer made his way onto the scene, flashing his badge. He was tall, with black hair and had clever green eyes, wearing a bomber jacket with NYPD blaring on the back in yellow letters.

Flashing his badge like he was in a movie, but made it ten times better. Ten times sexier, really.

“Detective Sergeant Nick Santiago, 67th precinct.” He introduced, looking up at the bank. “We got ourselves a hostage situation, I’m heading the case.”

“No can do, compadre.” One of the 71st huffed out a breath. “We just got off the call with the suits. They’re sending two of their agents over to head the charge. Something about the boys leadin’ the hostage sitch being their jurisdiction.”

“You kiddin’ me?”

“No, sir.”

“Who are we getting?”

“The best Major Crimes has to offer.”

NEXT UP:

“I’m doing my job!” You scoffed, holding the compress over your shoulder. It hurt to move it, honestly, but you’d rather take a banged up shoulder rather than Dean Winchester scolding you.

“And I’m not?” He retorted, hands on his hips. “We’re working this case together.”

“The only reason you’re even in Major Crimes is because daddy dearest pulled some strings.” You seethed, which had Dean bristling.

“That’s not how it went.”

“Then how?”

I’d appreciate a like, or reblog with feedback! Thanks for reading, lovelies!

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#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #Dean Winchester x reader smut #Dean x you #amoralism #materialism

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losers-clvb · 1 month ago

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woman of letters pt. 2 // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x man of letters!female!reader

summary: sam and dean discover the bunker of the men of letters. expecting it to be empty, they get quite the shock when they meet you.

content: swearing, canon level violence, reader is very inexperienced in combat, mutual pining between dean and reader, reader is slightly injured by dean, mentions of family death, idiots in love trope, angst

word count: 3k

note: read it on wattpad here. if you would like to join the taglist, either comment down below or send an ask! thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part!

taglist: @bettystonewell @kaz-2y5-spn

masterlist series masterlist previous part next part

----

You felt someone watching you. Eyes following you as you walked from the home of the secretary you had made allies with to your car. It was a lie to say it didn’t frighten you once you noticed. You readied yourself for a fight. You weren’t going to come crawling back to Dean to tell him he was right, you didn’t know how to defend yourself. You quickened your pace when you heard a branch snap. You pulled your keys from your blazer pocket. Fumbling with the lock on the car, you looked in every direction to spot your stalker. The click of the lock sent relief down your spine. You pulled the door open just as someone touched your shoulder.

You didn’t have time to think as you winded your arm back and sent your fist flush into the perpetrator's cheek. Pain flashed through your hand and you yelped at the same time the man who had been behind you grunted.

“Son of a bitch!” He exclaimed. You were clutching your hand to your chest when you got a good look at him.

“Dean?!” Instant anger flushed through your body. What was he doing, sneaking up on you like that? His green eyes found yours with a hand still cupped around the side of his face. “What the hell!”

Dean smiled weakly at you, wincing at the pain of the skin on his face stretching.

“Now that is a punch!” Dean congratulated you. You shook your head at the sentence, rage bubbling inside you. You could guess his motives for following you around and every one of them resulted in you wanting to strike him again.

“Leave me alone.” You grumbled as you climbed into the car. You attempted to grasp your key, but the already black and blue hand refused to let you get a hold on anything. You whimpered at the pain shooting up your arm. Dean was leaning into your car now, watching your every move. He found himself flinching at the sight of your appendage.

“Scooch.” Dean told you, nodding his head for you to follow in that direction. You glared back at him.

“No.”

“Yes. You’re not going anywhere with that hand. It’s broken.” Dean confirmed your suspicions.

“Who’s at fault for that?” You shot at him. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yours for not listening to me. Now move.”

After a moment of weighing your options, you relented. You moved to the passenger seat, sliding across the bench seat of the older vehicle. Dean had to admit, you had excellent taste in cars. He replaced you in the driver’s seat with a hand held out for the key. It was your turn to roll your eyes as you dropped the key into his open palm.

A tense silence fell over the vehicle as Dean drove back to the bunker. You were still pissed at him. Who gave him the right to scare you like that?

“Why were you following me?” You asked, voice thick with fury. Dean breathed out a sigh.

“I just wanted to show you why you need us.” Why you need me, was what he really wanted to say, but he didn’t want to seem like it was only about him. It was. He needed to prove to himself that he was needed.

“I was fine.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Dean was driving you crazy. You wanted to rip the hair out of your head.

“I was fine before you and Sam showed up.” You growled at him. The words struck a chord in Dean. He pulled the car into a lot hidden by trees. You turned from the window to look at him. You made your mind up. Dean Winchester was a mad man. He was staring at you. It was obvious he was thinking of something.

He was. His mind was a wrestling match between two options: fight back with you or kiss you. The argument was on the tip of his tongue, but that second option. That sweet, sweet, second option. You had no time to think before his lips were on yours.

You hadn’t kissed anyone before, unless the innocent kiss between you and Tommy Belfort in first grade counted. You figured it didn’t. You didn’t move, didn’t kiss back, didn’t push him away. You didn’t know what to do. Dean was kissing you. Dean Winchester, the man you had just punched, was kissing you. When he pulled away from you, chest heaving and lips red, you stared at him. Your mouth was slightly agape and you couldn’t take your eyes off of Dean’s. For the first time that day, you didn’t know what to say to the man.

“That’s one way to get you to listen.” Dean joked when your expression remained blank. He continued the drive back to the bunker. You were still speechless. Your mind raced. Pain throbbed in your hand and desire emanated from your lips.

Uh, oh, Dean thought when your expression hadn’t changed. He messed up. Again. Why did he always mess it up?

The car pulled through the tunnel leading to the garage. A few codes were needed, all of which you leaned across Dean to punch in. He watched you. The worry still chewed through his stomach. You wouldn’t talk to him. He hadn’t asked any questions, but you hadn’t said anything.

Once he shifted the engine into park, you tumbled out, rushing to get away from Dean. Air pushed your jacket up in your hurry, making your exit much more dramatic than you had intended. Dean’s heart broke with your actions. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel and wallowed in his self pity.

----

You booked it for the infirmary, ignoring Sam’s questions about where Dean was. So, he was in on it too. You gathered supplies to set your broken hand. This you knew. You had read enough medical journals and how-to guides that you could recite the steps in your sleep. You wrapped bandage around your hand and tried to pull the fabric tight with your teeth.

It wasn’t working. You needed someone else to hold it while you fastened it down.

Sam was watching you, big brown puppy dog eyes trained on your shaking frame. You turned to him, willing him with your eyes to come help you. In two long strides he was standing next to you and taking the bandage into his own hand. He didn’t ask what had happened, he didn’t ask if you were alright. He just did as he was told and held the makeshift cast tight. You snipped the extra off with scissors.

“Thank you, Samuel.” You nodded to him, noting the cringe when he heard his full name.

“Sam.” He corrected.

“Right. Sam.” You repeated his name again. You had made most of your entries for the archives with his full government name. You would have to change that, if only for his sake. He sent you an appreciative grin and helped you return the supplies to their homes. When he moved, he had given you an unrestricted view of the doorway. Dean was leaning against the doorframe with his eyes trained on you. You faltered at the picture of his bruising face. It was swollen and angry red and purple. You had gotten him good. It wasn’t as if he didn’t deserve it, but it still made you ache to know you had caused him pain.

You still didn’t know what to say. “Thank you for kissing me” would surely not land well. You weren’t used to these situations. You weren’t used to being touched like that. You shouldered past him and could have sworn you felt his hand brush yours on your way out.

Sam was staring at Dean, who now watched your retreating form. The younger brother raised his eyebrows when he spotted his injured cheek. He assumed your hand and Dean’s face were connected, literally.

“What happened?” Sam asked as he pulled an ice pack from the freezer that was recessed into the wall. Dean placed the cold thing on his face, initially flinching at the burning freeze. He swallowed before speaking.

“I kissed her.” Dean kept his voice low.

“And she punched you?” It wasn’t the first time Dean would get a bruise from kissing a girl.

“No. She punched me, then I kissed her.” Dean corrected, leaving out key details such as him lurking behind you like a serial killer. Sam chuckled at the mental image.

“Why did she punch you?”

“I was…” Dean hesitated, “testing her.” He finished his confession and braced for the reaction.

“You what?”

“I was testing her, alright! I needed to see what skill level she was at.” Dean argued. It was true. He was curious to see how much you knew, but he also wanted to make sure you were safe. A demon could have followed them to the bunker, leading you right into its arms. You weren’t dumb but your gut instincts needed some work.

Sam placed his fingertips on his forehead, soothing a headache away. His brother Dean, ever the gentleman. Dean watched him but his mind drifted to you. You hadn’t seemed upset at the kiss, but your silence worried him.

“She won’t talk to me, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was desperate. Sam hadn’t heard him like this before, not with any of the other girls he had been interested in. He thought for a moment, in search of a comforting statement. Then it crossed his mind.

“She’s been alone for thirteen years. Before that, she was raised up in this bunker from the age of nine.” Sam said aloud. Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“So?” Dean didn’t know why Sam was bringing this up.

“Do you see any romantic partners in here?” Sam gestured around him, meaning the bunker as a whole. Dean was still confused, eyes flitting around while in thought. Then it hit him.

“She’s never been kissed.” Dean voiced out. He stared dumbfounded at the stone wall.

“Not until now.”

----

You were pacing in your room. You felt like a prisoner in a cage, but you were your own captor. It had been hours since your return back to the bunker, hours since you last left your room. You had no interest in seeing Dean at the moment. You were embarrassed from your inexperience. Frustration bled over you. You hadn’t acknowledged your faults before the Winchesters arrival, yet everywhere you turned there was something else you were bad at. You couldn’t shoot, you couldn’t punch, you couldn't kiss.

You let out a sound of irritation and collapsed onto your bed. You couldn’t stay in your room forever. It was childish, immature, something you were not. You weighed your options. You could go to the library. You could go to the armory and take inventory -- for the seventh time that week. You could go back into town. Nothing seemed to spark interest in you. You gathered yourself to your feet again. This was impossible.

You pulled open the door to your room. The cool metal of the doorknob felt strange on your non-dominant hand. It was just your luck that the hand that was shattered was the one you used to do most things. The throbbing pain seemed to worsen at the recollection of the memory. The bunker was eerily quiet. There was more noise when it was just you than there was now that the space held three occupants. The click of your boots on the stone floor announced your presence to the kitchen. Not that it mattered. Your only company were the pots and pans.

Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the kettle as you filled it. You dove back into your thoughts while the water boiled. The fact that you still didn’t know how to react to Dean was weighing on you. In the books and movies, the girl always seemed to know what to do. Despite her level of experience with romance and lust her instinct always took over. You hadn’t felt that. The thought that you were broken crossed your mind, but you shook it off. A mind that housed as much information as yours couldn’t afford to be broken.

Still, you needed to solve this problem. You couldn’t ignore Dean, at least not for the long term. He was your roommate now, and it wasn’t your style. Perhaps you would ignore the situation rather than him as a whole. It was the best option to allow you to figure out what to do if it ever happened again. It would happen again. It had to, right?

You continued making your tea and moved to the library. It was empty, as you had assumed it would be. You placed your mug on a table and searched for a book to read. The more ancient ones were out of the question. They were too stifling and left you feeling hopeless. The guides on demons were just boring, the same information jotted down over and over again. You stood staring at the section of novels written by other Men of Letters. The genres ranged from informational to romance. It always amazed you how these members had found time to serve the purpose of the society and create such works.

The sound of footsteps pulled your attention behind you. You turned and waited to see who they belonged to. Dean stopped when he saw you. He waited for you to make the first move. You closed your eyes and turned away.

“You’ve cared for your injuries?” Your question echoed in the room. You dismissed the attempt to find entertainment and walked back to your drink. Dean’s eyes followed you.

“You’re talking to me?” Dean responded. He was feeling thrown off by your casual question. After his revelation with Sam earlier, he didn’t want to push you too much but this wasn’t going to get anyone anywhere. Your steps stumbled a bit with his words.

“I’ve never stopped talking to you.” Ignore the situation.

“You sure as hell weren’t chatting it up earlier.” Dean grumbled and stepped inside the room. You let out a frustrated breath.

“Let me remind you I was nursing a broken hand.” You leaned on the table and offered your wrapped hand into view. A pang of guilt hit at Dean, but he refused to back down.

“Let me remind you who caused that hand to be broken.” Dean raised his eyebrows to prove the meaning of his accusation. He was seriously going to turn what had happened, what he had caused, on you. You took a sip of your tea in an attempt to soothe your anger. It didn’t work.

“You pointed a gun at my head, you insulted me, you followed me against my will, and it resulted in this,” you jabbed the hand at him again, “but yeah, I’m the problem.” With every listed offense Dean shrank into himself. This wasn’t fair. He didn’t enjoy feeling like everything was his fault. He swallowed and took another step toward you.

“I never said you were a problem.” Dean argued. He didn’t want this back and forth of hurting each other. He couldn’t bring himself to stop it, to give in and admit his own faults. He couldn’t research to save his life, he acted out the stupid ideas he had, and he was shit at emotions. Moving from town to town he didn’t have a need for developing healthy communication. It was bar, bed, car, nothing more and nothing less. It had worked out well until he came here, met you.

“I know what you were implying.” You watched his face change into a mix of frustration and desperation. He was regretting his words, you knew that much. It didn’t change the way you felt right there in that moment. Like you were nothing but a chore that Dean was given. You wished you could go back to before, when it was just you and the bunker to keep each other company.

“If you had listened to me this morning, none of this would have happened.” Dean pushed back. You scoffed. The same defense, just different words. Did this man really have nothing better to do?

“And again, you attacked me. Not a demon. Not a wendigo. Not some crazed serial killer. You.” With another step Dean was toe to toe with you. Your face twitched in confusion and you set your tea on the table you were leaning on. Dean ignored your accusations with an eye roll. He was tired of talking. He couldn’t keep up with the back and forth. His hands found your waist, bunching up the fabric of your shirt. You swallowed down your uneasy feeling. He was going to kiss you again and you still didn’t know what to do, what to say. You wanted him to kiss you. No, you didn’t. You couldn’t decide. You felt his breath fan across your face as he leaned in. He stopped with your lips just barely brushing each other, tilting his head at your scared expression. You looked just as you had when he held the gun to your head.

“Don’t.” You breathed out, voice wavering. Dean’s face immediately fell at the word. He stepped backwards, eyes blinking at you. The warmth from his hands on your waist was replaced by a cool nothingness. You kept your eyes locked on his while you both fought in your minds for what to say.

Dean wanted to know why you kept pushing him away. Sure, the first time he kissed you you hadn’t really been expecting it. The second time? You knew. You knew and you didn’t want it, despite the way your body relaxed in response to his touch. Your terrified expression flashed across his eyes again, both the scenes from now and the day before morphing together. Why were you so scared of him?

It wasn’t him exactly. It was more of the uncertainty of the act than anything. You wished you could go back to before, when all you had to worry about was what book you would read next. This was messy. You pushed yourself up and grabbed your tea again. Dean watched you, taking note of your glances toward him. You let your feet carry you from the room, leaving Dean alone. Again.

#x reader #sam winchester #spn #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #dean winchester fic #supernatural #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester x man of letters!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #woman of letters - losers-clvb

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winchesterwild78 · 1 month ago

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The PE Teacher

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: mention of alcohol and death of a parent. Nothing bad.

A/N: This was an idea given to me by @jackles010378. Dean is a newly hired PE teacher at the school you teach at. He isn’t a hunter and Sammy is a lawyer. You’re a Kindergarten teacher and you take a liking to the new staff member. Does he feel the same? This will be a few chapters.

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. I don’t own the rights to any of these characters.

Does not follow the Supernatural Timeline.

Written fast and not edited well. Please overlook any errors.

Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated.

Please don’t take my work and use it as your own or on any other platform.

Minors DNI 18+

It was late August and teachers were returning to work. You walked in with your bag in hand ready for another school year.

You were excited and a little nervous. You knew there would be so many new staff members this year.

Walking in you greeted some colleagues and then you stopped by the office to get your keys.

“Hey, Y/N, how was your summer?” Ms Smith the secretary asked. “Hey. It was great. I did a lot of reading and some relaxing. How was yours?”

“It was good. My daughter got married.” “Oh that’s exciting. I can’t wait to see the pictures.”

She smiled and handed you your keys. “Have a great day, Y/N.” I smiled and said “you too.”

I walked out of the office and headed towards my classroom. I opened the door and took a deep breath. Getting the room ready was hard and time consuming. I was ready to get started.

I heard a squeal behind me and turned to see one of my teammates coming down the hall.

“Y/N!! I missed you so much.” She dropped her stuff and hugged me. I laughed, “Me too. Are you ready for this? We have the welcome back meeting in about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be there. I can’t wait to meet all the new staff. I heard the new PE teacher is a total babe.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Save me a seat.” She nodded and went into her room.

About fifteen minutes later I was sitting beside Karie and Tiffany in the welcome meeting.

Staff were coming in and greeting everyone. The new staff tried to slip in, but Karie, Tiffany and I greeted them all with a big smile and welcome.

Right before the meeting started I looked over and sitting near the door was a teacher I’d never seen before.

He was tall, bow legs, very handsome, sandy brown hair and piercing green eyes. My breath hitched.

Karie leaned over, “Y/N, I think that’s the new PE teacher.” He was talking to someone and when he laughed his head went back and he used his whole body to laugh. I couldn’t help but smile.

He looked over at me and our eyes met. A red hue filled my face and he smiled. I bit my lip.

The principal said it was time to make staff introductions. He started calling out grade levels. When he got to Kindergarten the three of us stood, introduced ourselves and Karie decided to announce that I was still single.

I looked over at the new teacher and he smirked.

Next was his turn. He stood and introduced himself, “Hi. I’m Dean Winchester and I’m the new PE teacher. I’m also still single.” He winked at me.

I wanted to crawl under the table and hide. Karie elbowed me and giggled.

Later in the day we were working in our classrooms. I had my hair in a messy bun and music playing.

As I cleaned and unpacked I sang and danced. There was a chuckle and a knock coming from my door. I spun around and saw Dean standing there.

I jumped and turned off the music. “Don’t stop on my account, sweetheart.” I chuckled, “Hey Mr Winchester. Do you need anything?”

He stepped in the room, “Dean, please call me Dean and yeah. I wanted to apologize and tell you I hope I didn’t embarrass you earlier.”

“No, Karie has a big mouth. She does this every year. Her and Tiffany are married with kids so she’s trying to marry me off.” I laughed.

“Well, at least you know she cares.” “Oh yeah, I know how much she cares.” I laughed.

“Well, Y/N, I’ll let you get back to work. You know where I am if you need anything.” I nodded, “Thank you, you too.”

The next month of school flew by. My students were doing great and loved going to PE.

The single moms and teachers took a liking to Dean. I did my best to maintain professional behavior, but damn was it hard.

Every flirt, giggle and soft touch that came Dean’s way he politely declined. I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous with all the women that threw themselves at him.

It was Friday and I was working late in my room. Most of the teachers and staff had already left for the night.

I didn’t want to stay late, but I had some things I needed to take care of.

I was sitting at my desk working when I heard a knock on my door. I looked up and saw Dean. He was dressed in jeans and a dark green Henley. Damn he looked good.

“Hey Dean. I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah. I was about to head out and noticed your car was still here. You seem to be the last one here and I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize it was so late. I appreciate you coming back, but you don’t have to stay. I’ll be okay.”

Dean furrowed his brow, “Nope. My mom would kick my ass if I let a woman walk in a dark parking lot alone. I don’t mind. I was just going to grab some food and a drink, so I have no plans.” He chuckled.

“Okay, well I’m almost done. I appreciate it. Thank you, Dean.” He nodded and I continued working.

God look at him. He’s normally dressed in his PE clothes, shirt and red shorts, knee high socks, sneakers and his whistle that hangs around his neck. He looks so amazing in jeans and that shirt. It fits just snug enough to show off his pecks.

I don’t realize I’m staring until I look up and we make eye contact. I cleared my throat, “Sorry.”

“No problem, darlin’. I like what I see too.”

I bit my lip and turned to pack up. Dean and I walked towards the front of the school making small talk.

He walked me to my car and I thanked him.

“Hey, Y/N. Would it be too forward if I asked you to dinner and maybe out for drinks?”

I smiled softly, “No it wouldn’t be. I’d like that very much.”

He took my hand in his, “Great, I’ll meet you at O’Malley’s.”

I nodded and climbed in my car. The whole way there, my heart hammered in my chest.

Arriving at the bar I saw Dean standing leaning against his car. It was a gorgeous, sleek, black 1967 Chevy Impala.

I got out and he pushed off his car smiling.

“Wow, Dean. Your car is beautiful.” He grinned, “Thanks. She’s my baby.”

I nodded and smiled. “Shall we?” He nodded and placed his hand on the small of my back and led me in, opening the door for me.

We took our seats and ordered food and drinks. Dean and I talked for most of the time.

I learned he had a baby brother, Sammy. Who is a lawyer and married with a little boy. He’s never been married, he loves his car, and his parents are still married.

The way his eyes lit up when he talked about his family made my heart melt. He clearly loves his family and they are a priority to him.

I told him about my family and how I lost my mother a few years ago. The pain I saw in his eyes was genuine. He softly touched my hand, “I’m so sorry about your mom. She sounded like a wonderful woman.”

His touch made me smile. As the evening progressed we slipped into comfortable conversation. At one point Dean asked me to dance.

The songs ranged from fast to slow and romantic. His hands gripped my hips tightly as he pulled my body close to his. I rested my head on his chest and I heard the steady beat of his heart.

His smell was intoxicating. Dean lifted my chin and looked in my eyes. His face leaned closer to mine.

I leaned closer and our lips ghosted against each other. When our lips connected every noise around us faded away.

The kiss was soft and then turned needy and passionate. His hands slipped up my back and into my hair, pulling me closer.

When we pulled apart our chests were rising and falling, pulling air into our lungs.

We walked off the dance floor holding hands. Dean looked at the time, “I guess we should head out. Especially since you have that thing tomorrow with Karie and Tiffany.” I nodded but I didn’t want the night to end.

We walked towards our cars and he placed a soft kiss on my lips again. “I had a really great time tonight with you.” “I did too, Dean. I’d like to see you again if you want.”

Dean stepped closer, “I’d like that very much. Good night, Y/N.” I smiled and a red hue filled my cheeks, “Good night, Dean.”

One last kiss was shared between us and I climbed in my car. As I drove away all I could think about was how it felt to kiss the PE Teacher.

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.

Tags:

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573

@k-slla @jackles010378

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

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@jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78

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@lunaleah @amberlthomas

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #dean winchester #dean winchester x plus size!reader

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doctorbitchcrxft · 4 months ago

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Jus In Bello | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: yay arrests, canon violence, canon gore, henriksen being lowkey bigoted, mentions of smut (MDNI, 18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6043

A/N: my american readers, i know we are all mourning this week. i hope that this brightens your day a bit. i love you all!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Somewhere in Colorado, you and the Winchesters managed to track Bela down to a hotel. You rushed in with your gun stowed in your jacket and were surprised to find no one. Confused, you searched through drawers hoping to find the Colt instead.

“Any sign of it?” Dean whispered commandingly.

“No,” you replied. “This is definitely her room, though.” You held up three wigs from the dresser.

Suddenly, the phone in the room rang. You shared a confused look with Sam and Dean. You picked the phone up trepidatiously, and didn’t say a word into it.

“(Y/N)? Sweetie, are you there?”

“Bela,” you hissed. “Where are you?”

“Two states away by now.”

“Where?” you snarled.

“Where’s our usual quippy banter? I miss it,” she sing-songed.

“I want it back, Bela. Now.”

“Your little pistol, you mean?” she tsked. “Sorry, I can’t at the moment.”

“You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?” you argued.

“What exactly is it that you think I plan to do with it?” she scoffed.

“Uh, I don’t know, take our only weapon against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder?” you remarked.

“You know nothing about me,” she replied bitingly.

“I know I’ll stop you,” you said evenly.

“Tough words for a gal who can’t even find me.”

“I’ll find you, I swear to god. Because I have absolutely nothing better to do than hunt you down and kill you,” you said.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re about to be quite occupied.” Her words had a sinking feeling forming in your stomach. “Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions?”

Suddenly, police officers burst into the room and pointed guns at you and the Winchesters. Immediately, you put your hands above your head and dropped the phone.

“Hands in the air!” an officer shouted. “Down on your knees.”

“That bitch,” Dean growled from his position on the floor beside you.

The officers forced you down onto the ground with your hands behind your back. When the officers repeated your Miranda rights, though, you noticed Bela had only given your first name. Thankfully, your full identity was still concealed.

Though, that momentary relief quickly dissipated when you heard the voice of the man you’d spoken to on the phone of that bank in the shapeshifter case.

“Hi, guys,” Henriksen said. “It’s been a while.”

You watched Dean lay his head down on the floor beside you in defeat.

***

Stoicism had always been your forte when it came to run-ins with the police. Dean, however, was as quippy and defensive as ever. You loved him more than anything, but that was definitely not going to work in your favor in this situation.

Dean and Sam were shackled together and brought into the police station first. Meanwhile, one guard stayed with you in the police car. Unfortunately, you were frisked upon your arrest, and anything you had to help you get out of your cuffs were now unavailable to you.

One other guard returned and led you into the police station. You cut your eyes at the secretary clutching a rosary and cowering in fear while she muttered what you assumed to be a prayer. You smirked at the irony of the situation.

You were then thrown into the cell across from Sam and Dean; the only two cells in the entire station. You remained silent, not even talking to Sam and Dean. Your anxiety was quickly getting the better of you. No matter what escape plan you tried to think of, you knew it was a lost cause.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Dean called from across the hall.

You kept your eyes at the ground.

Then, the sound of footsteps you attributed to Henriksen approached. He stopped between the two cells, pacing around and addressing the three of you. “You know what I’m trying to decide?”

“I don’t know—”

‘Don’t do it, Dean,’ you thought.

“What?” your partner continued to remark. “Whether Cialis will help you with your little condition?”

“What to have for dinner tonight.” Henriksen clearly had no time for Dean’s comments today. “Steak or lobster, what the hell, surf and turf. I got a lot to celebrate. I mean, after all, seeing you three in chains…”

“You kinky son of a bitch. We don’t swing that way,” Dean sneered.

“Now, that’s funny.”

“You know, I wouldn’t bust out the melted butter just yet,” Dean continued. “Couldn’t catch us at the bank, couldn’t keep us in that jail.”

“You’re right. Fucked up,” Henriksen nodded. “I underestimated you. I didn’t count on you being that smart, but now, I’m ready.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, ready to lose us again?”

“Ready like a court order to keep you in a supermaximum prison in Nevada till trial. Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell, so that between you and me… probably unconstitutional.”

Your stomach flipped again at his words.

“How’s that for ready?” Henriksen smiled. “Take a good look at Sam and— oh, nice to meet you, (Y/N)— you three will never see each other again.”

You felt like you could throw up.

“Aw,” the officer mocked. “Where’s that smug smile, Dean? I want to see it.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You got the wrong guys.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. You fight monsters. Sorry, Dean. Truth is, your daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk, and no doubt, touched you in a bad place.”

‘Oh, fuck. C’mon, Dean, don’t do it,’ you silently begged.

“That’s all. That’s reality,” Henriksen finished.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth?” Dean spat through his teeth.

“Well, guess what. Life sucks. Get a helmet. ‘Cause everybody’s got a sob story. But not everybody becomes a killer,” the officer pushed back. “And now I have three less to worry about. But what I’m curious about…” Henriksen turned to you. “What happened to you, (Y/N)? What’s your sob story?”

You stared up at him through your eyebrows angrily.

“What, you met these two on the road somewhere? They convince you of this Satanist crap? Then what, you start givin’ it up to one of ‘em?”

“You shut your mouth now, Henriksen,” Dean roared.

“Hmm,” the officer hummed. “I’m guessing it was Dean. I almost feel sorry for you. But I gotta tell you, that’s not your only issue, here. It took a while, but I figured you out. You an immigrant? ‘Cause you’re undocumented. Where you from? So I can send your ass back wherever you came from, and they can deal with you as they see fit.”

You still did not respond to him despite the rage and panic bubbling just below the surface.

Henriksen seemed to get bored and look down at his watch. “Ah, well. It’s surf and turf time.” He laughed coldly and walked away from you.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked, reflex seeming to have him pulling on the chains attached to his brother to try and get to you.

You nodded.

“So, this is how it ends, huh?” Dean tried to remark.

“No, Dean,” you murmured quietly. “We’ll figure something out.” After the “Mystery Spot” ordeal, you just wanted to spend some time with Dean taking a quiet case or finding Bela. This was not how you would’ve chosen for his last three months to go. You couldn’t believe this was going to be your fate.

Your anxiety was quickly getting the better of you, and you wanted nothing more than to be in the cell with Sam and Dean just for some form of comfort.

Instead, you were isolated from them. You were feeling more and more isolated from both Winchesters lately. Maybe not physically but mentally. Mentally, you were just living in fear of the day that Dean left you. You were scared of what you were going to become after his death, especially after what the trickster told you.

A man entering the cells from the office area caught your attention. He closed the heavy door behind him. “Sam and Dean Winchester. And Ms. (Y/N). I’m Deputy Director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure.”

“Well, glad one of us feels that way,” Dean sneered.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you three to come out of the woodwork.” Suddenly, Steven spun around and shot at you, hitting you in the left shoulder. You shrieked in pain.

“(Y/N)!” Dean and Sam yelled.

You fell back to the ground and scrambled around the cell trying to get away from the shots the man was firing.

Sam must have realized the man was possessed and began the exorcism ritual, making Steven’s head whip from side to side. He stopped firing, thankfully. “Sorry, I've gotta cut this short. It’s gonna be a long night, fellas.” Then, the familiar black smoke shot out of Steven’s body, and the man screamed.

Henriksen and two other officers burst through the door.

“What the hell was that?” one officer asked.

“Put the gun down!” another commanded.

“He shot him!”

Sam froze, still holding the gun. “I didn’t shoot him, okay. I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“He shot me!” you squeaked pointing to the man on the ground. You rolled toward the cold cement floor holding your left shoulder with the opposite arm.

“Get on your knees, now!” Henriksen ordered.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Sam mollified. “Don’t shoot. Please. Look. Here.” He passed the gun through the bars. “Look. We didn’t shoot him. Check the body. There’s no blood. We did not kill him. Go ahead, check him.”

One officer stooped to check Steven’s body. “Vic, there’s no bullet wound.”

“He’s probably been dead for months,” Dean explained. “What did you do to him?” Henriksen demanded.

“We didn’t do anything,” Dean responded.

“Talk or I shoot!”

“You won’t believe us.”

“He was possessed,” Sam began.

“Possessed? Right,” the agent laughed coldly. “Fire up the chopper! We’re taking them out of here now.”

“Yeah! Do that!” Dean threw his hands up as best he could in his cuffs in exasperation.

“Bill?” there was static on the other end of the radio in one officer’s hands. “Bill, are you there?” There was no answer.

Henriksen nodded for the man to go check outside.

The three other officers stood with their guns pointed at each of you.

You continued to writhe, the bullet wound in your shoulder making the entire left side of your torso hurt, waves of heat emanating from the hole in both sides of your shoulder.

“Could somebody help her for fuck’s sake?!” Dean grunted.

“They’re dead,” you heard the radio in an officer’s belt say. “I think they’re all dead.” His voice was cut off with a loud scream.

Henriksen grabbed the radio. “What the hell was that? Reidy? Reidy?! Come in? Reidy? Reidy?”

Henriksen never got a response. He and the other officers left trying to help the one who was likely dead by now.

You started trying to shove the jacket around your body into your wound as best you could with the limited amount of fabric and range of motion due to the cuffs around your wrists. Then, you noticed a roll of toilet paper atop the metal toilet in the corner.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” Dean asked.

You laughed through your pain as you crawled toward the toilet.

“I know, I know, stupid question. I wanna come help you. I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault,” you hissed through your teeth, trying to keep pressure on the wound with the toilet paper.

Then, the lights in the prison went off.

Dean looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, that can’t be good.”

“Nope,” you groaned. “Fuck, man, what the fuck. What is wrong with our lives?”

Both brothers chuckled.

Henriksen came back into the cell area. “What’s the plan? Kill everyone in the station, bust you three out?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean shot back.

“I’m talking about your psycho friends. I’m talking about a blood bath,” Henriksen pressed.

“Um, evidently, they’re not here to help us,” you groaned, motioning to the bullet wound in your shoulder.

“She speaks,” Henriksen droned.

“Look, you got to believe us,” Sam begged. “Everyone here is in terrible danger.”

“You think?”

“Why don’t you let us out of here so we can save your asses?” Dean begged.

“From what? You gonna say ‘demons’?” He raised his gun, pointing it at the ceiling. “Don’t you dare say ‘demons’. Let me tell you something. You should be a lot more scared of me.” Then, he left.

“How’s the shoulder?” Sam asked you.

You took a pad of toilet paper with a large blood stain on it away from your shoulder. “I’ll live,” you shrugged.

“Y’know, if we get out of here alive,” Dean added.

“Right. So you got a plan?” you asked the brothers.

Just then, you noticed the secretary peeking around a corner outside your cells.

“Hey,” you said to her.

Nancy backed off immediately, scared.

“Hey, Nancy,” Dean said. “Look, my girl’s been shot real bad. Can you— Can you get her a towel, or something? Just one clean towel, okay?”

Nancy looked unsure.

“Please, I’m beggin’ you here. Trust me, I don’t do that often,” Dean told her, trying to get her to open up a little. “Look. Look at us. We’re not the bad guys. I swear.” He gave her a smile, and Nancy shuffled away.

You deflated. “Nice try,” you told Dean. “Thank you.” Your eyes sank to the ground, and then, movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

It was Nancy, who was back with a towel.

“Thank you,” you smiled gratefully.

“Thanks, Nancy,” said Dean.

Nancy backed away from you when she’d given you your towel. Suddenly, Sam grabbed her from behind and pulled her against the bars.

Nancy screamed, and an officer came in with a rifle.

“Let her go!” the officer demanded. “Let her go!”

Sam let Nancy go, and she left horrified.

“You’re okay, Nance?” the officer asked her.

She nodded.

The officer turned his attention back to Sam. “Try something again, get shot. And not in the arm.”

“Okay,” said Sam.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean questioned, upset.

Sam held up Nancy’s rosary.

You snorted out a giggle.

***

The towel was helpful, but not as helpful as some stitches, a clean bandage, and some antiseptic would be.

“We’re like sitting ducks in here,” said Sam.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know. Would it kill these cops to bring us a snack?!” he shouted out his last words.

“Always thinkin’ with your stomach,” you snorted.

Dean gave you a playful glare.

“How many you figure are out there?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “But they could be possessing anyone. Anyone could just walk right in, and we’d have no idea.”

“It's kind of wild, right? I mean, it’s like they’re coming for us. They’ve never done that before.” Dean smiled suddenly. “It’s like we got a contract on us. Think it’s because we’re so awesome? I think it’s ‘cause we’re so awesome.”

You and Sam rolled your eyes.

A sheriff entered and unlocked your cell.

“Well, howdy, there, sheriff,” Dean said to the officer.

You stood, immediately uncomfortable and alert. “Uh, sheriff?”

“It’s time to go, darlin’,” he said monotonously.

You backed up into the cell. “Uh, I’m okay! I’m comfy right here. Thanks, though.”

Henriksen suddenly appeared. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re not just gonna sit around here and wait to die. We’re gonna make a run for it,” the man replied.

“It’s safer here,” Henriksen pushed.

“There’s a SWAT facility in Boulder.”

Henriksen stepped into your cell. “We’re not going anywhere.” Then, he shot the officer in the head.

“Sam!” you yelled, and he tossed you Nancy’s rosary as you dodged a blow from the demon possessing Henriksen. You wrestled the gun away from him and threw it out of the cell. You scrambled to subdue the demon and dropped the rosary into the toilet.

Between shouts from the brothers trying to break out of their cell and Henriksen grunting as you wrestled him, you got your cuffs around Henriksen’s neck and pulled hard.

You knew it would hurt like a mother, but you flipped yourself over Henriksen’s head and pulled him to the ground with you where the holy-water toilet bowl was waiting. You shouted out an exorcism, continuously forcing his head into the bowl. You sat on his shoulders trying to use all your body weight to way the much stronger man down.

“Hurry up!” you heard Dean yelling.

“It’s too late. I already called them!” the demon told you between gasps as his head came out of the water. “They’re already coming.”

You shoved him back into the water and finished the exorcism.

Henriksen screamed as black smoke shot out of his mouth and into the air vent in the ceiling.

You got off the man’s back and sat down on the bed, panting. Henriksen had fallen to the floor. You then noticed the small crowd that had gathered around your open cell.

“Is he… is he dead?” Nancy squeaked.

Henriksen regained consciousness and coughed. “Henriksen! Hey,” called Sam. “Is that you in there?”

You got down to Henriksen’s level to give him a once-over.

“I… I shot the sheriff,” Henriksen breathed out.

You could feel Dean’s next quip coming. “But you didn't shoot the deputy.”

Despite yourself, you snorted out a laugh. You quickly regained your composure when you noticed Sam’s glare.

“Five minutes ago, I was fine, and then…”

You cut Henriksen off. “Black smoke? You were possessed.”

He looked up at you in disbelief. “Possessed, like… possessed?”

“That’s what it feels like. Now you know,” you shrugged.

“I owe you the biggest “I told you so” ever.” Dean returned his gun to Henriksen.

The agent stood and addressed the officer standing behind him that you’d just noticed. “Officer Amici. Keys.”

With said keys, he released you and the brothers from your cells and chains.

Dean rushed to your side.

“Alright, so how do we survive?” Henriksen looked between the three of you.

***

Dean insisted on patching you up. You insisted you could do it yourself, but Dean was just as stubborn as you were. Finally, you allowed him to work on you.

Sam had drawn two devil’s traps on the floor of the station in the midst of Dean tending to you. The officer, whose name you learned was Phil, helped Henriksen prepare guns.

Dean snorted at the guns. “Well, that’s nice. It’s not gonna do much good.”

“We got an arsenal here,” Phil replied.

“It’s like using a BB gun on a T-Rex. That’s just gonna make them mad,” you informed them.

“What do you need?” asked Henriksen.

Dean smirked slightly. “Salt. Lots and lots of salt.”

Phil scoffed. “Salt?”

“What, is there an echo in here?”

“There’s road salt in the storeroom,” Nancy piped up from the corner.

“Perfect. Perfect,” Dean sighed in relief. “We need salt at every window and every door.”

Henriksen and Phil left to go retrieve it.

You hissed as Dean made a particularly rough jab at your arm with his stitching and grabbed his wrist.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

You stroked his wrist with your thumb briefly before dropping your hand. You turned to Nancy, who looked on silently. “How you holdin’ up, angel?”

“Okay,” she shrugged, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “When I was little, I would come home from the Church and start to talk about the devil. And my parents would tell me to stop being so literal. I guess I showed them, huh?”

You laughed softly. “Evangelical?”

“Yeah, actually,” she replied. “I would ask if you are, but…”

You laughed. “No. Raised Catholic, though.”

She made a sound of disapproval.

You laughed again. “Yeah, I’m not exactly crazy about it, either.”

Dean finished wrapping the bandage around your shoulder while you talked to Nancy. “Thank you,” you told your partner.

He kissed your forehead as he stood from his chair. Phil returned at that moment.

“Hey, where's my car?” asked Dean.

“Impound lot out back,” Phil replied.

Dean moved to leave.

“Wait.” Phil stopped Dean. “You’re not going out there?”

“Yeah, I got to get something out of my trunk.”

You immediately stood to follow him. “I’m coming with you.”

“(Y/N), no,” Dean warned.

“Dean,” you responded, leaving no room for argument. His gaze was intense, but you held it with equal ferocity. He was the first to look away, informing you that you’d won the argument.

You smiled cheerfully and followed him out to the Impala.

As soon as you were outside, Dean was angrily ranting. “I’m gonna fucking kill Bela, I swear.”

“Not if I kill her first.”

“I mean, she nearly got you fucking killed. Over a gun that means nothing to her. What the fuck is she playing at?”

“Dean—” you tried to cut him off.

“I swear to god, I’m gonna make it slow and painful.”

“Dean—”

“She’s gonna wish we got locked up in supermax,” he growled.

“Dean—!”

“What?!” he asked, turning to face you.

You were looking at him with such admiration, and his shoulders relaxed immediately as did his angry expression. “I love you,” you told him.

Dean leaned down to kiss you fiercely in the middle of the impound lot, cupping your chin. You pulled yourself impossibly closer to him.

He pulled away from hungrily kissing you momentarily. “I would fuck you right now if I could.”

You laughed. “Demon hunting’s what does it for you?”

“Watching you demon hunt does it for me,” he said. “The way you held your own against Henriksen? Damn.”

You pulled his lips back down to yours but pulled away after a quick kiss. Dean’s lips chased yours, but you turned and started walking forward.

“(Y/N),” he groaned.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you told Dean’s car as you approached it. You helped Dean pack his duffel bag with various weapons quickly until you caught sight of black smoke hurrying toward you. The lights in the lot flickered, and you smacked Dean’s arm frantically to get him to look.

Dean immediately pulled you away from the car after shutting and locking it, and the two of you raced back to the station.

As quickly as you could, you got back in the doors. “They’re coming!” you shouted, slamming the doors behind you and Dean.

Black smoke hit the window beside Nancy, and she screamed. You grabbed Dean’s and Nancy’s hands and pulled them into the center office with Sam close behind.

Dean tossed two sawed-off shotguns to you and Sam, and Henriksen looked between the three of you in admiration and confusion.

Phil, Nancy, and Henriksen had salted the windows while Sam spray-painted devil’s traps on the floor. The building shook as the demons hit what you imagined was the invisible wall keeping them out.

“Everybody okay?” Sam asked.

“Define ‘okay’.” That was the first time you’d heard Henriksen’s voice tremble.

“Alright, everybody needs to put these on,” ordered Dean, handing each person a protection necklace. “They’ll keep you from being possessed. There you go.”

“What about you guys?” Nancy asked.

You pulled down your jeans just enough to reveal the tattoo on your hip while Sam and Dean revealed theirs on their chests.

“Smart. How long you had those?” Henriksen asked.

“Not long enough,” Sam replied.

***

You stayed in the office with Dean and Henriksen while Phil, Sam, and Nancy went to check the perimeter. Henriksen stared sadly at Melvin’s nameplate— the officer he’d killed— and your heart hurt for him. As much of a pain in your ass as Henriksen had been, he had a big heart.

He then picked up one of the shells you were filling yours and Dean’s guns with. “Shotgun shells full of salt.”

“Whatever works,” Dean shrugged.

“Fighting off monsters with condiments,” Henriksen said more to himself than you. “So. Turns out demons are real.” He took off his tie and began filling his own gun with the rocksalt shells.

“FYI, ghosts are real too,” Dean noted. “So are werewolves, vampires, changelings, evil clowns that eat people.”

“Okay then,” the agent nodded.

Dean smiled. “If it makes you feel better, Bigfoot’s a hoax.”

Henriksen snorted. “It doesn’t. How many demons?”

“Total?” you asked. “No idea. A whole lot, though.”

“You know what my job is?” Henriksen asked.

“You mean besides locking up the good guys?” Dean smirked. “I have no idea.”

Henriksen began, “My job is boring; it’s frustrating. You work three years for one break, and then maybe you can save... a few people. Maybe. That’s the payoff. I’ve been busting my ass for fifteen years to nail a handful of guys, and all this while, there’s something off in the corner so big. So yeah… sign me up for that big, frosty mug of wasting my damn life.”

“You didn't know,” you told him.

“Now I do.” Henriksen looked thoughtful. ��What’s out there? Can you guys beat it? Can you win?”

“Honestly? I think the world’s gonna end bloody,” Dean replied. “But it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swingin’.”

“Plus, you got nothing to go home to but your brother.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dean replied, nodding at you.

You smiled.

“So I was right,” Henriksen nodded, smiling lopsidedly.

“What about you? You rockin’ the white picket fence?” Dean asked Henriksen.

He shook his head. “Empty apartment, string of angry ex-wives.”

“Well, if there’s anything this one’s proven to me,” Dean nodded toward you again, “it’s that there’s someone for everybody.”

“Look at you getting sappy,” you said. “Imagine that.”

Dean smirked and clicked the barrel of the shotgun back into place.

Suddenly, you heard a crash. You grabbed your gun and ran out into the lobby.

A woman had broken in, but you couldn’t quite see who it was around Sam.

“How do we kill her?” Henriksen asked, stepping up beside Sam.

“We don’t.” Sam lowered Henriksen’s rifle, informing you exactly who had gotten in.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, god.”

“She’s a demon,” Henriksen replied, confused.

“She’s here to help us,” Sam replied.

“Are you kidding?” Phil piped up.

“Are you gonna let me out?” Ruby asked.

Henriksen looked to you, confused. You just shook your head in exasperation.

Sam scratched the ground to let Ruby out of the devil’s trap.

“And they say chivalry’s dead,” she remarked. “Does anyone have a breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in here.”

“Show off,” you murmured.

Dean smirked.

Ruby walked past you into the main office, and you, Dean, and Henriksen followed closely.

“How many are out there?’ you asked.

“Thirty at least,” she replied. “That’s so far.”

“Oh, good,” Dean snarked. “Thirty! Thirty hit men, all gunning for us.”

“Who sent them?” you asked.

Ruby looked to Sam, who stood in the doorway. “You didn’t tell them? Oh, I’m surprised.”

“Tell us what?” you asked, cutting your eyes at Sam.

“There’s a big new up and comer. Real pied piper,” she explained.

“Who is he?” Dean questioned.

“Not ‘he’. Her,” Ruby answered. “Her name is Lilith.”

You laughed, immediately recognizing the name. “Like, from Isaiah? That Lilith?”

Ruby nodded. “Look at you, sparky. You almost impress me. She really, really wants Sam’s intestines on a stick. ‘Cause she sees him as competition.”

Dean turned his attention to Sam. “You knew about this?” Sam didn’t answer.

“Well, gee, Sam. Is there anything else I should know?!” Dean roared.

“How about the two of you talk about this later? We’ll need the Colt.”

“About that,” you said to Ruby.

She looked at you in anticipation. “Where is the Colt?”

“It got stolen,” you admitted.

“I’m sorry. I must have blood in my ear. I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands. Fantastic. This is just peachy.”

“Hey, look,” you said. “You’re not my mother. Spare me the reprimanding, okay?”

“Shut up,” she told you. “Fine. Since I don’t see that there’s any other option, there’s one other way I know to get you out of here alive.”

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

“I know a spell. It’ll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included. So, you let the Colt out of your sight, and now, I have to die. So next time, be more careful. How’s that for a dying wish?” she spat.

“Okay, what do we need to do?” Dean asked.

“Aw,” she tsked, “you can’t do anything. This spell is very specific. It calls for a person of virtue.”

Dean nodded. “I got virtue.”

The demon snickered. “Nice try. You’re not a virgin.”

The older brother laughed. “Nobody’s a virgin.”

Ruby looked at Dean and then at Nancy.

“No. No way. You’re kidding me, r— You’re…” Dean trailed off under your warning gaze.

“What? It’s a choice, okay?” Nancy’s cheek blushed, and she looked down to her ballet flats.

“So, y-you’ve never… Not even once? I mean not even – Wow.” “Dean!” you scolded, lightly smacking the back of his head.

“So, this spell. What can I do?” Nancy smiled at Ruby.

“You can hold still,” Ruby replied, almost smirking, “while I cut your heart out of your chest.”

“What?!” the woman squeaked.

“Are you crazy?!” you pushed back.

“I’m offering a solution,” Ruby said in response.

“You’re offering to kill somebody,” Dean argued.

“And what do you think’s gonna happen to this girl when the demons get in?”

Henriksen piped up. “We’re gonna protect her. That’s what.”

“Very noble,” Ruby scoffed.

“Excuse me!” Nancy politely interjected.

“Guys—” you tried, having heard Nancy trying to speak.

“You’re all gonna die. Look. This is the only way,” Ruby continued, talking over you.

“Would everybody please shut up?!” Nancy yelled. She turned her attention to Ruby. “All the people out there… will it save them?”

Ruby nodded. “It’ll blow the demons out of their bodies. So if their bodies are okay… yeah.”

Nancy paused thoughtfully. “I’ll do it.” The room erupted into a string of “hell, no”s.

“We don’t have a choice,” Ruby argued.

“Yeah, well, your choice is not a choice,” Dean asserted.

“Sam, you know I’m right,” Ruby tried, but the younger brother wouldn’t look at her.

Dean smiled, thinking Sam would agree with him. “Sam? What the hell is going on?”

“Sam,” you urged. “C’mon, man.”

“It’s my decision,” Nancy tried.

“Damn straight, cherry pie,” Ruby commented.

“Stop! Stop! Nobody kill any virgins. Sam, I need to talk to you. (Y/N), you, too.” Dean led you and Sam out into the hallway. “Please tell me you’re not actually considering this. We’re talking about holding down a girl and cutting out her heart.”

“And we’re also talking about thirty people out there, Dean. Innocent people who are all gonna die, along with everyone in here,” Sam responded.

“It doesn’t mean that we throw away the rule book and stop acting like humans. I’m not gonna let that demon kill some nice, sweet, innocent girl, who hasn’t even been laid. I mean, look, if that’s how you win wars, then I don’t want to win,” Dean stated.

“Then what? What do we do, Dean?” Sam pushed.

Dean turned away, and the wheels in your head turned. “Wait, I have an idea,” you announced. “It’s, uh, a stupid one, but it beats killing a virgin.”

“How stupid?” Sam asked.

“Like, Dean-level stupid,” you answered.

“I’m standing right here,” Dean said.

“I’m kidding. You’re very smart when you wanna be.” You patted his shoulder softly.

“Okay, so, what’s the plan?” Sam questioned.

“Open the doors,” you said. “Let ‘em all in, and we go to town.”

***

You stood near the main entrance waiting for Dean to give the “all clear.” Ruby left moments ago through the doors you stood near, and it gave you a clear view of just how many demons lay ahead of you.

Nancy and Phil waited on the roof with bags of salt to lock the demons in the station with you to carry out your fabulously idiotic plan.

“All set?” Dean called to you.

A string of “Ready!” came from you, Sam, and Henriksen.

“Let’s do this,” called Dean.

You broke the salt lines and devil’s trap protecting the doors in front of you. You threw the outside doors open, and suddenly, a demon appeared from above to kick his feet at you. You shot at the demon while you scrambled backward to try and scramble into the office.

You stumbled toward the audio room, shooting shot after shot over your hurt shoulder. You met Henriksen inside, providing him cover while he waited for the symbol from Dean.

Your shotgun clicked, having run out of shots, and you chuckled the gun at the snarling demon in front of you.

“Henriksen, now!” Dean yelled, much to your relief.

Henriksen turned it on while you wrestled with the demon in front of you, and the demon shoved you to the ground. He had your discarded shotgun pressed to your throat as the beginnings of the exorcism you had recorded played over the station’s radio system.

The demons screamed horribly as your voice carried over the loudspeakers, and the demon above you rolled off, allowing you to breathe once more. As the exorcism finished, you struggled to get to your feet. You checked on Henriksen behind you, who’d also had a tussle with a demon, and he sighed in relief.

You stumbled out of the audio room with Henriksen in tow, and you found the boys making their way out of the office.

After stepping over the collapsed, formerly possessed people scattered across the floor, Dean tucked you into his side as you took in the scene around you. You wiped blood off your lip and laughed in relief. You put your arm around Sam, and the three of you stayed there silently for a moment.

***

You bid goodbye to Henriksen, Nancy, and Phil, and the FBI agent had said he’d kill you, Dean, and Sam in his report back to the Bureau. Despite how rocky your relationship with the man had been, you were grateful for the way it’d ended.

Now, in your motel room, you packed up, and Ruby appeared at the door.

“Turn on the news,” she ordered, walking into the room.

You did so.

“The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago. Authorities believe a gas main ruptured causing the massive explosion that ripped apart the police station and claimed the lives of everyone inside. Among the deceased, at least six police officers and staff, including sheriff Melvin Dodd, deputy Phil Amici, and secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents, identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen.”

Your hand flew to your mouth in horror.

“Three fugitives in custody were also killed. We’ll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now, back to you, Jim.”

Ruby turned off the television and looked at the three of you with an “I-told-you-so” look.

“Fuck you, Ruby,” you huffed.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” she responded.

“Must’ve happened right after we left,” said Sam.

Ruby tossed hex bags to you and the brothers. “Considering the size of the blast, smart money’s on Lilith.”

“What’s in these?” you asked.

“Something that’ll protect you. Throw Lilith off your trail… for the time being, at least.”

You nodded to her in thanks, and Sam thanked her audibly.

“Don’t thank me,” she scoffed. “Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little virgin, plus a half a dozen other people. So after your big speech about humanity and war, turns out, your plan was the one with the body count. Do you know how to run a battle? You strike fast, and you don’t leave any survivors. So no one can go running to tell the boss. So next time, we go with my plan.” With that, she left.

Your head dropped in exasperation, and Dean reached over to grab your hand. He squeezed tightly, and you and the Winchesters sat in silence for a long while.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 6 months ago

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Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 15

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: None. Just angst and fluff.

Word Count: 3,343

A/N: So, here it is - Chapter 15, and the end of this series. I've been so grateful for all the wonderful reblogs and encouraging comments this fic has received as it's gone along week by week. Your support is the reason why it's finally completed.

It began life as just a few chapters from an orphaned fic of mine over on ff.net and now it's a fully completed Dean fic that I'm very proud of. 😊 So thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the end of this story, and feel it was worth the investment of your time. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Four weeks later. January 1901.

Dean sat down heavily behind his mahogany desk and picked up his morning mail before immediately throwing it back down in annoyance.

It will just be invitations and invoices, Dean thought, who cares?

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and digging his fingers into them. He was hungover and had barely slept. He felt like he'd been hit with a brick building.

With a deep sigh, he opened the file in front of him and ran his hand over the top page. It was his copy of the deal that he’d finally signed a week ago.

Two weeks ago, George Taskett had called his secretary to arrange a meeting. When Dean showed up at the appointed time, George apologized profusely for what had happened at the theater.

“It’s taken me a little while to reach out to you because I wanted to be able to tell you that Byron Temple had been fired, and before I could do that, I needed to speak to the board about it first. But I can assure you now that he has been permanently removed from his position, and fired from our company. It seems that the board shared my concerns with his lack of moral character.”

George had told Dean that when they investigated a little bit, they’d discovered that the incident at The Manhattan hadn't been the first such incident for Temple. Dean was not surprised, and he was glad that the board of Northern Freight had been all too happy to show him the door.

So with Temple out of the picture, the deal had gone through as originally planned and all three companies were now set to make a lot of money. Winchester Shipping and Lumber was in the best shape it had ever been in.

But he still couldn't sleep at night.

As he tucked the file away, he heard a knock at the door and then Grant's voice when he opened it. Dean couldn't make out what he was saying to the visitor, but if it was anything other than, “come back another day”, Dean might have to fire him.

A minute later, however, Grant was in his doorway to announce his guest. But Dean didn't need the announcement, as he saw his baby brother's towering frame standing behind his butler.

Dean stood up with a frown, walking out from behind his desk as Grant left, and Sam entered his study. “What's wrong?” He asked without preamble.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing's wrong.”

Dean's scowl got deeper. “What do you mean ‘nothing’s wrong’? Then what are you doing here?”

Sam shrugged. “Just wanted to visit my brother.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk and fixing Sam with a look as he took a seat on one of the leather chairs across from Dean.

“You just wanted to visit?” Dean asked, his voice incredulous. “You thought you'd take a six hour train ride to just…drop in and say hi?”

“Sure.”

“Sam.”

“I just wanted to see how you're doing. See if you're alright.” Sam said innocently.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Sam sighed. “Cause Y/N isn't.”

Dean's heart beat double time as he scowled again at his little brother. “Sam, honest to god…” He ran a hand through his hair. “This better not be the real reason you're here.”

“It is.” Sam said calmly.

“Well, then I'm sorry you wasted your money on a train ticket, along with six hours of your life.” He held up a finger. “No, twelve, actually, cause you're gonna leave now.”

Sam just continued to stare at him, annoying him profusely. Finally his little brother had the audacity to shake his head and scold him.

“Dean, why did you let her go? I saw you with her, saw you at Christmas. I know you love her.”

“Bullshit!” Dean barked at him, angrily. “You are imagining things, Sam, and I'm not interested in dredging up this same asinine conversation I already had with your wife.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, she told me about it. Just made us even more sure that you were completely in love with Y/N. What we couldn't figure out is why you were so furious about the very idea of loving her.”

“Dammit Sam, drop this!” Dean shouted at him as he straightened up from the desk.

Sam pointed at him. “Yeah, furious like that.” He shrugged. “But then…I think I figured it out “

"Oh, did you?" Dean asked with a death stare, feeling the panic start to rise up in him.

Sam's voice softened as he looked Dean in the eye. “You're afraid you'll end up like Dad.”

Dean clenched his jaw and refused to respond.

But eventually Sam just shook his head. “You won't though.”

Fear and panic sat thick in Dean's throat, clogging his voice as he spoke. “You don't know that.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I do.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Dean shuffled back and sat down behind his desk again. His head was pounding harder than ever.

He watched Sam for a while before he shook his head. “You don't remember him the way - I mean, obviously you couldn't remember him how he was. Before. But…”

He scrubbed an exhausted hand down his face. “I remember. The way he was. I remember him laughing and smiling. The way he'd pick me up when he walked back in the door at the end of the day, ride me around on his shoulders…I remember all of it. And I remember when it was gone. He was like a completely different man. He might as well have died with her, cause he was gone and he never came back.”

Dean closed his eyes. “So, I swore to myself, I swore,” he emphasized, “that I would never do the same. I would NEVER love someone like that and then lose myself completely when they were gone.”

He shook his head again and opened his eyes to pin Sam with another glare. “I just won't do it.”

Sam sat, quietly nodding for a moment before his brow wrinkled in thought. “Hmm…” He took a deep breath and spoke as he exhaled.

“Do you love me?”

Dean stared at him for a heartbeat before a red flush began climbing up his neck as he answered in a growl. “What are you talking about?”

But Sam just waved away his brother's words. “Nevermind, I already know you do. You love me a lot.”

Dean continued to glare at his annoying little brother, not sure what to even say to that.

“And I know you love Jess and Lucy too. Also a lot.”

“What is your point Sam?” He barked at him, although he thought he'd started to figure it out.

“I know this too, though.” Sam continued without answering him, “If anything ever happened to me or…Jess, or…” He didn't seem able to finish the horrible idea, and Dean felt his stomach churn and his chest ache at the mere thought.

But Sam pushed on. “If something ever happened, you'd never abandon the ones left behind. You'd never leave us on our own.”

Dean bit his bottom lip, feeling his throat ache from his trapped feelings.

“Oh yeah?” He asked doubtfully. “And how could you possibly be sure of that?” He smiled without humor. “I am my father's son, after all.”

Sam shrugged. “That may be, but you're also just Dean, my big brother. And he's the most selfless man I've ever known.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam continued over him.

“You've never put yourself first. Not while you were raising me. Not when you went toe-to-toe with Dad for me, so I could go to law school. Not when you worked a second job outside the business, so that you could pay my whole tuition when Dad refused to pay for it with ‘company money’ as he called it.”

Dean couldn't look at Sam any longer, dipping his head to stare at the wood grain in his desk as his brother continued to heap undeserving praise on him.

“And ever since you took over the company, you've always put your employees first, you take care of them, you work twice as hard as you need to, and pay them a lot more than other companies do, to make sure they can live good, happy lives. I've seen your books, I know it's true.”

“So?” Dean cut into Sam's diatribe, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Even if all of this praise was true, which it isn't, none of it proves that loving and losing someone wouldn't change all of that. Dad was a good man too, until he loved a woman and lost a woman.”

Sam tightened his jaw. “Maybe he was, but he was also a selfish bastard for abandoning us, for just going off to live alone with his grief and anger. You weren't even five years old, and you'd just lost your mother!” Sam huffed angrily. “He should have cared about that too. He should have cared about you, about us...not just the wife he lost.”

Dean's instinct was to defend their father, but he didn't. He'd begun to see that Sam was right; it had been pretty selfish.

“And I'm telling you,” Sam said with conviction, “if you and Y/N were lucky enough to be blessed with children, you would NEVER abandon them for any reason. Not ever. Because you. are not. our father.”

Dean heard his little brother's words, and the freedom he found in them, surprised him. It felt like he could breathe deeply for the first time in a very long time. He felt a tear escape and he dashed it away quickly, turning his chair away from Sam and staring at the wall.

After a moment of quiet, Sam spoke solemnly. "But none of this speculating about how you'd act IF you fell in love with Y/N really matters anyway. Because the plain and simple fact is, you're already in love with her.”

The words still made Dean's stomach clench, and he turned back to Sam and shook his head. “No, I refused, I wouldn't let myself love her.”

Sam rolled his eyes and breathed out harshly. “Damn! You really are a monumental idiot.”

Dean scowled at him, unimpressed with his opinion.

“Dean, you can't stop yourself from loving someone. You can't just control something like that.”

Dean felt the old, familiar panic start to rise in his chest. If he couldn't control it...if he really did love her already…then he'd already lost, and he'd never be free of her hold on him.

I don't wanna be free.

The intrusive thought leaked into his mind and he closed his eyes, trying desperately to deny it but-

“She's leaving.”

Dean's eyes popped open to stare at Sam.

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

“She gave us her notice. She's leaving. Catching a train in a couple of days. That's why I came to shake some sense into you before it's too late. She's going west, says she wants to seek some adventure, but I know it's really because we're all just a constant reminder of you. She's been miserable this whole last month - trying very hard to hide it - but miserable.”

Dean felt a different kind of panic rising as he contemplated Y/N being on the other side of the country, living her life a million miles from his.

She'd get married to someone else - someone who didn't become paralyzed with fear at the thought of needing her in his life. He'd win her over, he'd make her smile, make her happy. He'd give her children; he'd be the damn compatible husband she'd always wanted, and give her the little cottage and respectable life she deserved.

The exact life he'd told her to go and live just before he made love to her and then snuck out of the room before she woke, like a coward.

He looked at his little brother, desperate now for his help. “Shit. I walked away from her Sam. I left her a goddamn note cause I was too much of a coward to say goodbye to her face. Cause I knew if I spent another minute with her, I'd be so tempted to do anything she wanted, say anything she wanted, just to get her to stay. And I couldn't risk it.”

Sam gave him a scolding look and just shook his head.

Dean's voice was slightly forlorn. “What are the chances she forgives me for that?”

Sam shrugged. “Won't know till you try, coward.”

***

Y/N clutched the handle of her leather bag tightly, gripping it over and over, wearing it smooth from sheer worry. She recognized that traveling alone, to some remote California town she'd never been to was ludicrous and dangerous. But she just couldn't take it another day; she needed to get as far away as she could.

Living with Sam and Jessica everyday, watching them in their happy, loving marriage, was simply more than she could handle. The fact that occasionally, when Sam smiled or frowned or laughed a certain way, a tiny piece of his big brother would appear on his face, well, that was just the knife in her heart that made leaving quickly a necessity.

So, here she was, on a bench on the train platform, waiting for a train to roll in and carry her away from endless reminders of Dean. But even just sitting on the bench reminded her that she'd first met him while she was sitting on a bench - on that cool day last fall, when he'd burned his way into her life, into her heart and then into her bed. Unfortunately, he'd also burrowed his way into her soul, and she knew he'd never leave.

Even now she imagined that she heard him calling her name over the screaming whistle of the steam engine that was pulling up beside her; it was the train that would take her away from everything she wanted to leave behind. Though she knew she'd never manage it completely.

Y/N frowned slightly as she looked up; she thought she heard his voice again. Was she truly going mad?

But then she saw him, running through the steam on the platform, coming towards her. She jumped up, completely confused, but somehow feeling like she needed to be on her feet.

“Dean?” She asked as he reached her. “Why are you…? What-”

Dean interrupted her. “Don't get on that train. Don't go. I have a proposition for you instead.”

Y/N felt her heart plummet. “Dean-”

“Marry me.”

Her words died in her throat and she just stared at him, her eyes bulging as she tried to work out what was going on.

“Oh,” she said almost sadly, “I've actually gone completely mad now.”

But Dean was shaking his head. “No, sweetheart, I was the crazy one. I was the one who thought I could simply wish away, or will away loving you, but I should have known it was never gonna work.”

Y/N returned to being simply speechless, eyes wide and staring once again, as Dean continued, his voice sincere and ardent.

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I didn't stick around to say goodbye. Hell, I'm sorry I even tried to say goodbye in the first place. I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to let myself love you, or admit to it anyway. Seems like I didn't really have much say in the matter. Apparently trying desperately to not love someone, doesn't actually stop you from loving them. Who knew?" He said with a lopsided smile and a shrug.

Still smiling, he took another step towards her and his voice was strong and sure. "But I'm mostly sorry that I didn't wrap my arms around you the very first time I saw you, and absolutely refuse to let you go.”

“That's actually kidnapping!”

Y/N whipped around to see Sam and Jessica standing behind her on the platform with Lucy between them. Jessica slapped Sam's arm for his sarcastic comment.

“Shush. He's trying.” She waved at Dean and called to him. “You're doing great, champ! Keep going!”

“Give her the ring, Uncle Dean. Ladies like rings!” Lucy shouted.

Y/N started crying and laughing in the same breath, and nearly choked. But as Dean nodded at his niece and got down on one knee, tears won out and she started crying noisily.

He gazed up at her with a soft smile and slightly glassy eyes. “I wasn't planning to do this with an audience, and I have a lot to explain to you, I know, about why I was such an idiot and how stupid I was to be afraid of loving you.”

“Quit reminding her she'll be marrying a moron!” Sam called out again, and Y/N heard Jessica smack him again. But she couldn't take her eyes off of the massive ring that sat in the velvet box Dean opened and presented to her.

It was a Tiffany's box, she noticed, and inside was a beautiful diamond ring, with a small round emerald in the very center.

“I love you so much, Y/N, and I know I don't deserve you, but please say yes anyway.”

“Yes!” She shouted, taking the box from him and then throwing her arms around his neck, letting him stand up and twirl her around, laughing with him through her tears.

Everyone on the platform clapped happily, as Dean kissed her.

Sam covered Lucy's eyes but she pushed his hand away, clapping loudly at the little fairytale that had played out for her.

As Dean pulled back, he slipped the ring onto her finger and ran his thumb over her knuckles, before raising her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it, just like he did the very first day they'd met. It still had the power to make her stomach flutter.

“Do you like it?” He asked, touching the emerald in the center of her ring.

Remembering her prediction that emeralds would always make her cry, brought on even more of those predictable tears. She was happy beyond measure that she'd been both right and wrong about that.

“Yes, I love it.” She said as she kissed him sweetly and then gazed into his bright green eyes. “And I love you, Dean. So much.”

“Thank God. Just...just don't stop. Please?”

Y/N nodded. "Promise." She whispered.

Dean sighed against her lips before claiming them once again.

***

The St. Louis World's Fair. Spring 1904.

“Lucy Winchester! You've had more than enough of that spun sugar now, come back over here and hold your brother's hand.”

Jessica ran after her six year old with her two year old in tow, until Sam grabbed him up and settled him against his chest. With her hands now free, Jessica grabbed a protesting Lucy away from the cotton candy cart.

Y/N laughed at her former student's frustrated little face and decided to try and help her sister-in-law out. “Luce come here; your cousin needs your help.”

Jessica let go of Lucy's hand so she could run back to her aunt and uncle. Y/N and Dean walked behind them a little ways, with their one year old, Melody, toddling somewhat unsteadily between them.

Y/N let Lucy take Melody's hand. “She loves walking with you and you're so good at showing her just how a real lady walks.”

Lucy beamed proudly as she immediately slowed her pace to allow Melody to keep up, and then walked very sedately to help her little cousin learn how to be a lady.

Jessica smiled brightly over her shoulder and mouthed, thank you to Y/N who laughed lightly. Dean reached over and took her hand now that it was free, swinging it gently back and forth.

Suddenly Y/N remembered Christmas day three years ago and how she'd imagined going to the World's Fair, and walking hand in hand just like this.

There were no cherry trees beside them and the crowds were fairly thick on the pathways around the fair, which meant they were jostled around a bit more than she'd imagined in her idyllic fantasy.

But the feelings she'd imagined back then were exactly the same. Family. Love. Belonging. She stepped closer to Dean and rested her head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand tighter.

He kissed the crown of her head and then whispered to her. “Happy, sweetheart?”

She looked up at him and gave him a mischievous smile. “Happier if you'd kiss me.”

He pretended to be scandalized. “Mrs. Winchester? In public? In full view of the children?”

Y/N laughed happily, making her in laws look back at them and smile.

Dean leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “That's all my strict moral fiber will allow for.” He said in pretentious tones.

Y/N pouted at him playfully and he dipped his head to whisper against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“But Mel is sleeping in her cousins’ room with the nanny tonight. So later, in the privacy of our hotel room, I plan on kissing every writhing, shaking inch of your body until you -”

“Auntie!” Y/N was yanked back to reality as Lucy called to her, excitedly. “Melody said my name!”

Trying to ignore the raging fire her husband had kindled within her, Y/N smiled down at Lucy.

“Well, I'm not surprised. She loves her big cousin.”

Lucy smiled widely before she dropped Melody's hand to run up and tell her parents her good news. Melody started to fuss over her cousin leaving, until Dean scooped her up to sit on his shoulders; then she squealed happily, thrilled to be up so high.

Y/N just watched Dean for a moment, her eyes watering slightly as she thought about how heartbroken she'd been on that Christmas day so long ago, when she'd believed this life was forever beyond her reach.

Dean looked down at her and she picked up his hand again, pressing close to him.

“I love you, you know.”

His beautiful green eyes were warm and overflowing with happiness as he bent his head slightly, holding Melody tightly so she didn't slip, and kissed Y/N senseless. Despite his earlier moral protestations, his kiss was slow and deep and it stole all the air from her lungs.

He pulled back from her and the look of love in his eyes stole her breath all over again as he answered.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead and spoke softly, for her ears only. "Thanks for teaching me how."

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destiel-news-network · 1 year ago

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(Source)

#destiel #us politics #secretary of defense #Lloyd Austin #UTI #castiel #dean winchester #breaking news

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ninii-winchester · 6 months ago

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Behind Closed Doors (Part 4)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count : 1.2k

Warnings: a lot of angst, reader says demeaning things about herself, language, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

“It’s alright I’m his fiancée.” Y/n really wanted to scoff at the woman’s claim but then her gaze fell to the woman’s left hand. Her ring finger was adorned with a ring, a single sapphire gleamed at the center, encased by tiny diamonds. That was the kind of ring she’d seen in Mrs. Winchester’s finger. That was same kind of ring that she’s seen in Sam’s fiancée, Jess’ finger on multiple occasions. It was the Winchester family’s traditional heirloom, passed down through generations, a symbol of their legacy. She then looked at her own and realised that any one would believe this woman over her, if she ever claimed to be Dean’s fiancée. Y/n felt a lump forming in her throat but she took a deep breath and cleared her throat before speaking,

“I understand, however I can’t let you go in without permission, it’ll risk my job.” She forced a smile. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” She added gesturing to the door and to her relief the woman nodded in agreement.

Y/n knocked on the door while the woman sat on the waiting couch, Dean’s voice was heard from behind the door as he gave permission to enter. She went inside the room and Dean looked delighted to see her, but his smile faltered when he noticed her expression.

“Mr Winchester, there’s someone waiting for you outside but she doesn’t have an appointment. Shall I send her in?” She said monotonously and he furrowed his brow.

“Who is it?” Dean asked curiously.

“Your fiancée.” She said calmly and his eyes widened in surprise. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times unable to form a coherent reply. He understood the look on her face when she first entered the room. When he didn’t reply for a few minutes she added, “I’ll send her in.” With that, she left.

Dean was quick on his feet and followed her out the room and his gaze landed on the woman sitting on the couch. The woman stood up and swiftly made her way towards him.

“Dean!!” She exclaimed happily throwing her arms around his neck.

“Rachel? What are you doing here?” He asked and Y/n watched the scene unfold in front of her eyes. So he did know her. She wanted to look away from them but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the couple and she desperately wished she did when she saw Rachel peck his lips. She grimaced before turning back to the computer screen holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.

"I thought we could get lunch together," she said, her voice soft with a hint of hope.

“I’m busy!” Dean replied tersely. He didn’t want to have lunch with her, he wanted her to leave as soon as possible so he could explain to Y/n. So he could gather her in his arms and tell her she’s the only one and this a misunderstanding.

“Some other time?” Rachel asked and Dean nodded not wanting to create a scene. He was expecting her to throw a fit and demand his attention but he was surprised that she agreed so easily. Rachel turned to leave but then she stopped at Y/n’s desk, “Oh, you’re engaged too?” She said to Y/n excitedly pointing to her ring her. “Congratulations.” She smiled.

“Oh this?” Y/n replied showing her hand to her, “I’m not engaged.” She said softly and Rachel’s face turned to one of confusion. “I deal with businessmen on a daily basis and rich men think they can make me their mistress because I’m just a secretary. So this keeps them away.” She explained, glancing at Dean who was seething beside Rachel. Hah take that Winchester.

“That’s so inappropriate and just unacceptable. Dean, You shouldn’t do business with such people.” Rachel told Dean and he nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “I’ll get going but—” She looked at name plate on her desk, “Y/n, don’t hesitate to tell Dean if anyone does it again.”

“I won’t. Thank you.” She smiled at the redhead. Y/n wished this woman was a cunning bitch, it would’ve been easy to hate her. But at this moment this moment the only person she hates is someone she swore to Love for the rest of her life. Rachel reciprocated the gesture and kissed Dean on the cheek before taking her leave.

“Inside. Now.” Dean growled at Y/n and turned on his heels to go back to his office. Y/n rolled her eyes before following him inside. She watched him pace back and forth, his jaw clenched. “What the fuck was that?” He asked in a dangerously low tone.

“She’s beautiful. Perfectly matches with you.” Y/n commented.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you behaving like this?” Dean snapped.

“I’ve never been a mistress before. I don’t know how they act.” She replied crossing her arms and Dean was sure he’d have steam coming out of his ears. He was fuming. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.

“Call yourself that one more time and I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He challenged making her scoff.

“Drop the act Dean. I can’t believe you went this far to keep the ruse.” She said gesturing to the ring on her finger. She went to remove it from her finger but he pulled her hand away.

“Don’t you dare.” Dean growled. “She’s not my fiancée, you are.” He yelled not caring if anyone heard.

“Really? And who knows that except you and me?” She asked rhetorically and Dean didn’t have an answer because she was right. “One look at the ring on her finger and anyone could tell she’s a Winchester woman.” She exclaimed.

“That’s.. it’s complicated.” Dean looked away breathing heavily. He didn’t want her to find out this way. He had hoped to handle the mess before she found out, but here he was now, in an even deeper disaster. She glared at him and moved past him to leave but he stopped her. “Baby please don’t do this.” He said softly.

“You have a meeting in five, Mr. Winchester.” Was all she said before she left.

Y/n beelined towards the women’s room and broke down finally. She leaned against the sink, her reflection distorted by the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her usually immaculate appearance was in disarray; her blouse was wrinkled, and her carefully styled hair was now a tangled mess. Her eyes, red and swollen, stared vacantly at the mirror as if trying to make sense of the shattered image before her.

Her breath hitched as she tried to steady herself. She clenched and unclenched her fists, the sharp edge of her engagement ring digging into her palm, a small distraction from the overwhelming hurt, but a stinging reminder at the same time. She quickly removed it from her hand and pocketed the ring. She really wanted to flush it down the toilet but it was expensive and she wanted to return it to Dean. She’d decided that she’d only talk to him if he comes clean about the situation or it’s the end of whatever they had.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01

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destieltropecollection · 10 months ago

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 4: Hurt/Comfort

,,Hello, Dean." | @tami-ryver Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,162 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel teaches Dean Enochian, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Pining Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester Summary: Cas teaches Dean Enochian and they both might get something more out of it.

Falling Inside The Black | @tami-ryver Rating: Mature Word Count: 1,715 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon Dean Winchester, Season/Series 10, Alternate Season/Series 10, Pining Dean Winchester, Pining Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Cocky Dean Winchester, Castiel is So Done with Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), 5+1 Things, Pining, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort Summary: 5 times Dean hates being a demon and 1 time he takes advantage of it.

Warm Embrace | @tami-ryver Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,957 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Kidnapped Dean Winchester, British Men of Letters (Supernatural) Being Assholes, Hunter Dean Winchester, Creature Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Escape, Coils, Hugs, First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Angst, Scared Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gorgon Castiel, Medusa Castiel, Summary: Dean freezes. He is unarmed, Cas doesn't know how to use the gun and their only escape route is the door to Cas' right. Dean doesn't know what to do, he is paralysed with fear. He is going to die here.

Non Solum | @thisisapaige Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16,061 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Witch Castiel, Hunter Dean Winchester, Strangers to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Castiel lives a quiet life, a solitary life, a lonely life. He cannot risk anyone finding out he is a witch, lest any hunters seek out his isolated cabin in the frozen Northern Wastes. Interacting only with those who require his healing services, Castiel constructs an existence that ensures he will be alone. Alone, that is, until a bloodied, dying man crawls up to his front door and threatens to tear down everything Castiel has built.

The River | @davidfosterwallaceandgromit Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16,763 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Purgatory, Alternate Season/Series 15, Character Study, Angst, Season/Series 15, Divorce Arc Summary: Cas has seen Dean in every state from abject misery to desperate determination, but his essential nature has never changed. This, this fight against Chuck, it’s different. Ever since the cemetery, Dean is acting differently. Rewrite of 15x09 "The Trap," dealing more directly with Dean's control issues and Jack's death.

Love Me Anyway | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 22,027 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern setting, CEO!Dean, secretary!Castiel, bodyguard!Castiel, friends to lovers, trauma, panic attack, coming out, character development, pining, falling in love, bi!Castiel, emotional hurt/comfort, PTSD, kidnapping. Summary: For five years Castiel Novak was CEO Dean Winchester's perfect bodyguard and assistant. Novak, the only man the powerful leader trusts. But one day, Castiel Novak quits his job all of the sudden because he wants to marry his girlfriend and have a normal life, leaving Dean speechless. Dean realizes he knows nothing about the best employee he had. As his world turns unexpectedly upside down, the famous CEO decides become Novak's friend to keep him close again. But try to become a "good selfless friend" is something new for Dean... and even more when he discovers through that path he may have feelings for Castiel.

Monster Crush | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: Mature Word Count: 22,441 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, Episode: S07E01, Creature Castiel, Angel Castiel, Summer, Vacation Spot, Fluff and Angst, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Castiel, Hurt Dean Summary: With Godstiel’s reign finally over and all the souls back in purgatory, Dean is aggravated (but not surprised) to learn that yet another problem has surfaced: Castiel, after recovering from the ritual, appears to be growing monster parts. As in, one second he has vampire fangs, and the next he has tattooed djinn arms. And then there are the tentacles. Castiel believes it will wear off. Dean has trust issues. Still hurt by his betrayal, Dean nonetheless decides that he and his mega-monster-shifter angel should lay-low somewhere isolated until they know more. Which makes it very complicated for Dean to keep giving him the cold shoulder.

Graceland | @deliciousblizzardshark Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,554 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural),Trans Castiel (Supernatural),Trans Male Character, Road Trips, Getting Together, canon-typical child abuse, Religious Cults, mentions of transphobia, Found Family, Sam Winchester is Dead, Suicidal Thoughts Summary: Sammy died on a Wednesday morning, only a few miles away from where Dean was sleeping off a hangover, sprawled across his bed in a pair of worn boxers as if the world couldn’t hold any more trouble for him. -- Sammy's dead and Dean, who'd devoted his whole life to taking care of his younger brother doesn't know what else to do but to pack up the Impala and take to the road. It's only when he picks up Castiel, an escapee from a religious cult with ghosts of his own, that he begins to learn how to escape his grief and to believe there might be a place where he belongs.

His Angelic Wings Aren't | @Abletownshipnumber5 Rating: Explicit Word Count: 36,249 Main Tags/Warnings: Angel wings, post-season/post finale, Castiel's angelic grace, hurt/comfort, time travel, slow burn, canon-typical violence, kidnapped Dean Winchester, Traumatized Dean Winchester, Swearing, homophobic language, mildly dubious consent Summary: After Dean arrives in Heaven, he discovers Cas has been freed from the Empty by Jack. Jack transforms Dean into an angel so he can serve in Cas' newly formed garrison. However, their reunion did not go as Dean had hoped. Also, Jack brought back angels previously sent to the Empty by Team Free Will and some aren't happy with Dean.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #supernatural #fanfic #hurt/comfort

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pinkypromisepascal · 2 years ago

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𝙹𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 (𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

request by @chloelouisejohnson: hi!! so boring and predictable but could we get a jealous dean x reader with plenty of angst and a healthy dose of smut?? mabye jealous over reader and sams friendship but sam and reader are only so close because deans a douche and constantly pushes reader away the second they start getting close?

summary: you are friends with the Winchester brothers and often help them with research for their cases, mostly working together with Sam because Dean always seems gruff towards you until you confront him about his behavior

content warnings: angst, jealous!Dean, swearing, smut [fingering, praise, p-in-v, unprotected sex], enemies to lovers I guess?😀

word count: 4.8k

author’s note: I really hope you like this one, I tried my best, wasn’t really sure about how their relationship would develop, but I think it turned out ok. Also, this is my first time writing smut, so be nice with me😂

/// this has only been proofread by myself ///

You had met the Winchesters about two months ago when they had been working on a case in your hometown. You weren’t a hunter yourself, but you’d always been a very curios person, especially when it came to things that didn’t seem easy to put into words, like emotions, some natural phenomena, or even the supernatural. Naturally, you had started working at the local library years ago after having worked a secretary job for what had felt like eternity, so you could bury your nose in the all kinds of literature you could get.

When Sam and Dean had been staying in a local motel for the case, you couldn’t help but do some research on your own. They had spiked your interest even more after showing up at the library to search for newspaper reports. Since you were working at said library, you had offered them to stay after closing hours if they needed to. Which had led to the three of you taking up a table for six people with what felt like one hundred books. You had talked to Sam about the case and had searched the library for more helpful literature.

Ever since, it seemed that you had bonded with the Winchester boys. You liked both Sam and Dean, but you sometimes felt like Dean wasn’t as easy-going as his younger brother. You figured he was just a more practical guy than Sam who wasn’t so much into digging through tons of literature, who preferred to just get the case done and head over to the next one. Which was completely understandable, theory tends to be the less exciting part. But Dean always seemed kind of on edge when he was around, and you just couldn’t grasp why. Sam and you spent a lot of time in the bunker’s library to gather information about the cases. You didn’t always need the books, you just really liked being surrounded by them. Dean never spent more than ten minutes around the two of you. He usually just came around to ask how the research was going and to get a quick heads up on the information you had gathered so far, only half-heartedly listening to you while sipping a drink.

But over the last few days, you felt like he distanced himself even more. When Dean was around, he didn’t really want to know anything if it wasn’t about a case. Sometimes, when Sam was gone, it felt like his eyes were piercing through you. Dean didn’t really talk much to you, he just… watched you do your stuff. You did try having small talk with him when you were alone, asking him questions about past cases or his family, which was a big mistake as you had noticed right after asking. “Alright, don’t you have something to do? You don’t have to force some small talk, ‘kay?”, he had spat. To be fair, you did know it would be bad idea to ask about his family, Sam had told you the most important things, but what else were you supposed to do? Another time after that, when you had offered to go take care of the laundry with him, he just told you get back to Sam and help him out. Was Dean annoyed by you? Didn’t he like you being in the bunker with them, although he had been the one who invited you to the bunker in the first place?

“Do you think Dean’s been acting weird lately?”, you asked Sam one day, both of you focused on the bright screens on your laptops. You were researching for a case about people disappearing in the woods a few towns over, and dogs barking at seemingly nothing. You had both thought about Ghosts, Rugarus or other flesh-eating creatures, maybe even a new one, some kind of hybrid, which would make it more difficult to kill. Sam was still absorbed in his notes and didn’t notice you asked him a question until you nudged his leg under the table and asked him again. “What do you mean? Isn’t he acting like he always is?”

“I don’t know. I feel like… I think Dean doesn’t like me. He’s never around when we’re doing research, he only shows up for food or drinks-”

“Well, Dean never really liked those research days, to be fair.”, Sam interrupted.

“No, I mean, yes, okay, but seriously. When you’re out to get groceries or something, he’s so… tense all of the time. It’s like he really wants to punch me in the face, but he tries to do that by staring holes into my head or something. He always seems so angry, it drives me nuts!” You ruffled your hair and groaned. “You know, I really like being here, and I’m so glad that we help each other out, but… you know? He was the one who suggested I’d come around when you guys got something going on, so why is he acting like he regrets that decision more than anything?” Sam told you that he didn’t really notice Dean had been acting like that, but he could imagine that Dean could act like that if something really got to his nerves. “Did you talk to him about it?” You cocked your head and furrowed your brows. “Of course I did! Well, not particularly about that, but I did try to have a normal conversation with him, but I think he’d rather poison himself than tell me about the stick up his ass.” Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I don’t really know what to do about that, I doubt that he’ll tell me what’s wrong, he’s, uh… not a man of big words most of the time. Maybe he just doesn’t really trust you yet, even though it’s been months since we first met, but, um, yeah… Don’t know, sorry.” Sam gave you a sad smile. “He’ll come around, I guess. Maybe he just needs time. And maybe you shouldn’t think too much about it. If he doesn’t treat you how you wanna be treated, you can confront him or just ignore him. Give him a taste of his own medicine or something.”

You thanked Sam for listening to you and excused yourself to a little break. You went through the backdoor of the bunker’s garage, holding your pack’s last cigarette in your hand, fiddling with the lighter in the other. The whole situation just didn’t leave your mind. Should you try to talk to Dean again and apologize for anything you did, even though you couldn’t think of what you could’ve done to upset him so much? Or should you just wait for him to approach you? You took a drag of your cigarette and closed your eyes, trying to stop your thoughts from racing, feeling small rain drops cooling your skin. This is so stupid, you thought, so stupid and childish, my god, grow some balls, Dean!

Distracted by your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the Impala rolling out of the garage until the horn startled you. You turned around to see Dean behind the wheel, motioning at you to get out of the way. You just stared at him with wide eyes and spread your arms to the side in a what the fuck? motion, cigarette still sitting between your lips. Reminding yourself that he wasn’t worth picking a fight, you stepped aside, waving your arm to signal him to get going. As he drove off, you flipped him off, not really intending for him to see it, but still hoping he would. “Fucking dumbass”, you mumbled. You put out your cigarette on the nearest rock and headed back inside.

When Dean came back half an hour later with some fast food, you expected him to take his food and return to his room again, but to your surprise, he sat at the table with you and Sam. You and Sam exchanged looks, you tried to telepathically tell him that this was unusual compared to the last weeks, but Sam just shrugged. You didn’t expect him to do something about the tension between you and Dean, you just wanted someone else to see how weird it could get between you and him.

“So, uh, how’s the research going?”, Dean suddenly asked between bites, not specifically looking at any of you. “Well, we’re not quite sure what the case is about yet, we couldn’t figure out what creature might be causing the troubles, our best guess is something like a Rugaru, maybe a ghost that’s stuck in the forest for some reason, maybe even something like a Crocotta? You know, those things that can mimic human voices and lure their victims into traps. But, y’know, we’re not sure. Maybe looking for clues in the woods would help us out.” You shrugged and bit into your burger again. Dean looked at you and Sam. “So, that’s it? That’s all we’ve got so far? Man, we’ve been better before.”, he grouched, probably more to himself than to you and his brother. “Well, maybe we’d be faster if we had your help.”, you simply said. You immediately sensed Sam shifting in his seat and felt Dean’s glare on you.

“Come again?”

“Oh, you heard me, Mister I just sit in my room all day or drive around in my old car because I’m too full of myself to hang out with those boring bookworms.” Sam almost choked on his burger and mumbled a “Oh god, here it comes.”

You looked over to the older Winchester. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. “Someone spit on your burger or something? The fuck’s your problem now?”, he asked.

“My problem is that you’re complaining because Sam and I haven’t magically solved the case yet! We’re working hard to get as many clues as we can before we show up there tomorrow while you’re just ignoring us! You never show up, and now you sit here with us to eat and pretend like you haven’t spoken a word to me in days? The fuck’s wrong with you, Dean?! You were the one who invited me here and told me that I could help you guys out, and you’ve been rude to me ever since!”, you snapped, despite noticing that Sam clearly got uncomfortable at this point. That didn’t stop you from continuing your rant, though. “You make me feel like you just got me here so you can chill out or something, because you poor little boy don’t get enough rest! I get that your lives are tough, but that doesn’t justify you treating me like a stress toy you use to let your anger out on every once in a while. Sam clearly does a better job at making me feel welcome around here!”

Sam cleared his throat and before he could try to settle your dispute, Dean smacked his fist on his table. “I’ve had enough of you, y’know that? Yes, I did invite you to join us every now and then, but I knew I was taking a risk with that-”

“Oh, shut up, Dean, what’s that even-”

His fist came down on the table another time.

“If you don’t let me finish talking, I’ll make sure you regret ever coming here.”, he growled, his eyes turning a darker shade of green. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Sam shifting in his seat again.

“Listen close, alright? I’m not gonna say this again. You are allowed to be here because I allowed you to after you were really helpful for one of our cases. Right? Sam and I talked about that, and we both knew that it would be risky to let someone else in here, someone who’s not a hunter. You lack skill, alright? You can’t fight, you can’t defend yourself against other people, let alone monsters. If someone wanted our heads and tried to get to us through you, you’d be dead faster than you can name your favorite book. But we still took you in, because you were good to us, and we rarely get good company ‘round here.” Dean paused for a moment, but his eyes gave away that there was so much more he wanted to say.

“So, I’m just another face to look at until you get tired of it? You’re just gonna cut me out of your lives again when you get bored of me?” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it was still shaking. You were bouncing your leg under the table and felt tears build up. “You don’t even talk to me Dean… at least not in a… normal way. I tried to have a normal conversation with you, and I know that asking you about your parents was a stupid mistake, but… every time we’re alone in a room, you just… stare at me like I’m a failure, like you don’t even want me here. You never even thanked me for all the times I’ve helped you so far.” A few tears quietly ran down your cheek. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and looked down on the table again.

Dean ran a hand over his face while Sam took care of the dishes. Uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen. You were the first to get up. You wiped the tears from your face and ruffled your hair. “I’m gonna go to sleep, I’m too tired to drive, but I’ll be out here first thing tomorrow morning.” None of the Winchester brothers answered as you left the room, but when they thought you were out of range, you heard Sam speak up to Dean. You couldn’t quite figure out what he said, he spoke too quietly for you to hear, but you could hear Dean loud and clear when he barked back, making you freeze in your spot.

“We both know she doesn’t belong here, Sammy! She shouldn’t be with us, she should be leading her normal life, you know how it ends when we like people.” Dean had gotten quieter towards the end, he sounded… torn.

This is too much right now, I really need to sleep, you thought and went on to the bedroom they had offered you to use. As you dropped onto the mattress after brushing your teeth and changing into something more comfortable, exhaustion took over quickly and you drifted into a dreamless sleep.

About two hours later you were wide awake again, joined by a pulsating headache. You groaned and rolled around in the soft bed. “The last thing I needed today.”, you said to yourself as you massaged your temples. Luckily, you always carried light Ibuprofens for such cases, but you still needed water, so you trudged to the kitchen again. After taking the painkiller, you rested against the sink for a while and recapped every moment between you and Dean that had to lead up to the depressing dispute that evening. You remembered one day where Dean had offered to go grocery shopping. You had wanted to join him and pay for the groceries as a thank you for the boys taking care of you when you were there. “I’m fine, just go hang out with Sam, you’ve gotten pretty good at that.”, he’d said. You hadn’t thought much of that, you were too taken aback by him brushing you off like that, but now that you thought of that moment again, something seemed to click.

Was Dean jealous? Could that be why he’d been acting so stiff around you? But there’s no reason to be jealous, you thought.

Dean’s deep voice pulled you from your train of thoughts. “You okay?” You shortly looked at him standing in the doorframe and then massaged your temples again. “Woke up with a headache in the middle of the night, but other than that…” You shrugged, “Fine, I guess… why’re you up?”

“Fell asleep in the library. I, uh, I took a look at your notes. On the case.” Dean cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, unsure what to do with himself. You looked at him with furrowed brows, and when he lifted his gaze to meet yours, you were surprised yet again by how green his eyes were. Because Dean had been avoiding you most of the time, you didn’t get many chances to take a close look at his pretty, chiseled face. But when you got the chance, you didn’t want to take your eyes off it.

“Listen, I, uh… I snapped at you earlier, and I’m… I’m sorry for that. I just- it just got too much for me in that moment.” Dean ran a hand over his stubble and cleared his throat again. After taking a deep breath, he continued talking. “Truth is, I don’t hate that you’re around, ok? I know I made you feel like that, and I get that you’re mad at me. And what I’m gonna say now will sound so cliché and shitty that you’ll wanna take another painkiller for your headache, but, um… I need to get it out ‘cause it’s been driving me insane.” Another short pause where neither of you knew exactly what to do. Should you take Dean’s hand to let him know that it’s okay? Should you hug him? Get him a drink?

“It’s just that… I love having you here with us, I love how you liven our life in here up. And I noticed how you and Sam were getting closer each day, because you’re both huge nerds who read books all day, so I- I thought I’d just leave you to it and not get in the way. It’d be too dangerous anyway. So I just… I don’t need to tell you what I did, you already know that part.” A light chuckle came from you. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. But I need you to understand that I was keeping myself from risking your life.” Dean almost pleaded. “Why do you always bring up that I’m weak, that I need protection or things like that? How would you be risking my life by treating me like a normal human being?”, you asked him calmly to avoid the situation escalating again.

Dean stepped closer, locking his eyes with yours again, resting his hands on the sink behind you, capturing you between his frame and the sink. “Because I don’t wanna just treat you like a friend. With the thoughts I’ve been having about you, I can’t treat you like just a friend. There’s so much more. But I’ve been stopping myself from acting on it because every single person I’ve ever cared about was taken from me. It makes me feel like I’m cursed or something. It’s like the moment I start liking someone, they’re doomed. And from then it’s just a question of time till I find them dead.” You couldn’t even focus on the last sentence he spoke, you were too startled. He was having ‘thoughts’ about you? Him? Dean Winchester? About you? Despite every encounter you two had had? It made no sense to you.

“Dean”, you started, not even knowing what you wanted to say to him. You looked into his eyes and took a deep breath. “Start fucking acting on it.”, you hissed. Dean cocked his eyebrow. “What?”

“You said you stopped yourself from actin’ on your feelings and thoughts ‘cause you were too scared and - apparently - jealous of Sam because we’re spending a lot of time together. Which is only because every time we have a moment to ourselves, you start acting like a complete douchebag. I like you, Dean. So please start doing what your mind’s telling you to do because I can’t stand douchebag-Dean anymore. I kinda hate him.” You started laughing at yourself and this whole situation. “Oh, you don’t want that, sweetheart.”, he just countered. “Oh, come on, think I can’t handle you, big boy?”

“I just think you underestimate me. I like your smugness, but I’ll rid you of that quicker than you think. Once I got you in my hands, you’ll melt.”, he purred. “And after that, you’ll be mine only. I’ll leave you just as obsessed with me as I am with you.” Dean’s right hand came up to your face, his thumb gently tracing your lower lip. “But I need your permission for that.”

Too frozen in this moment to form a sentence, you just nodded and before you could think of something else, Dean’s full lips crashed on yours, lightly biting your lower lip. You sighed as you opened your mouth, his tongue slipping inside, exploring.

Dean’s hands squeezed your waist and pulled you closer to him, your hands running up his torso to grab him by the collar of his shirt. He kept kissing you, making you hungry for more. Between kisses, you asked him if he really wanted to do this here in the kitchen. “Good point.”, he mumbled and picked you up bridal style in one swift motion. You shrieked in surprise, Dean shushed you immediately. “You’re gonna have to be quiet if you don’t want Sam to hear us. Walls are kinda thin here.”, he said as you entered your bedroom. Dean lightly dropped you onto the mattress, earning a chuckle from you. He climbed on top of you, kissing along your neck and jawline. “I wonder what other sweet sounds I can get out of you.” You fumbled at his button down to shrug it off his broad shoulders, but Dean seemed to have other plans. “Patience, sweetie.”, he said as he kissed you deeply again, “I wanna take my sweet fucking time with you, till you’re weak in every single muscle.” Him saying such things already made you almost see stars as waves of desire flamed through your body.

Dean’s arm went under your back and he lifted you to sit on his lap. “Now be a good girl and take that shirt off for me.” His large hands cupped your breasts as soon as your shirt was gone and slowly kneaded them, rolling your hard nipples between his thumb and index finger. “Look how good they fit in my hands.”, he murmured against your lips. You eagerly rolled your hips against him, feeling his erection under your core. Dean groaned and captured your lips again. “Your turn.”, you panted with a smug smile. “Why don’t you do that for me, hm?”, he chuckled. With no hesitation, you clawed at his button down, finally shoved it from his shoulders and then put your hands under his t-shirt, slowly pushing it up while he sucked on your neck.

Both of you were still wearing too many clothes, so you decided to drop yourself on the bed again, pulling Dean with you without your lips breaking contact, getting hungrier and more eager with each kiss. Dean’s kisses started traveling across your body, licking and biting certain spots he knew would drive you crazy. You shuddered when he reached your lower belly. His fingers hooked under the hem of your pants, he slowly dragged pants and panties down along your legs, making sure his lips would reach every tingling spot on their way down. Your eyes rolled back and you arched your back lightly, impatient, wanting to finally feel him inside of you. Dean lifted his head to look at you. “If only you could see you goddamn pretty you look right now.” He pushed himself up to kiss you again, one of his hands drawing slow circles at your core. “And you’re gonna look even prettier when I’m done with you.”, he mumbled as he carefully pushed his index inside of you, making you inhale sharply. “God, so wet for me already? Hm, what did I do to deserve this?”, he cooed, looking deep into your eyes. “You okay, sweetheart? Tell me if you wanna stop.”

“If you stop now, I’ll never talk to you again.”, you panted and rolled your hips into his hand as you felt him pull out to add another finger. “That’s what I wanna hear.”, he chuckled. Dean fingered you in an almost agonizing pace, enjoying how smooth you felt, knowing exactly how much you wanted him to do more. Your hands started fumbling with his belt and unzipped his pants. Dean sat back and quickly slid his pants down and threw them aside, now only in tight boxers. Your eyes fell onto the outline of his thick cock. Dean grabbed your face and forced you to look at him. “Eyes up here, sweetie.” He grabbed one of your hands and led it down to his crotch, making it wrap around his cock through the boxers. You slowly pumped him as good as you could, not breaking eye contact. Dean groaned huskily, leaning his forehead against yours. His hand found your core again, two fingers sliding in and out of you while his thumb circled your clit.

Soon enough, Dean couldn’t hold back much longer. Drawing his hand from you again, he slid his boxers down just enough to set his cock free and positioned himself between your legs. “Do you want this? I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Dean, please.”, you whined and bucked your hips. Dean carefully pushed himself inside, keeping his eyes on you to see your reaction. He intertwined your hands and kissed your forehead as he kept pushing. You felt yourself stretch around him, felt yourself adjust to his size.

He bottomed out with slow thrusts, trying not to loose control of himself. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”, he growled and picked up the pace a little, “Can’t believe I finally have you to myself.” Your hand was pressed against his chest, desperately searching for any contact it could get. “Dean, faster, please.”, you moaned. Dean took his hand from yours and used it to lift one of your legs up, putting it over his shoulder and leaning down towards you as he started pounding into you, slick sounds and skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you moaned loudly at him fucking you like this. Dean shushed you once again. “As much as I love making you sound like that, you should keep quiet if you don’t want Sam to hear this.”

You grabbed Dean by his neck and pulled his face as close to yours as possible. “I don’t care, I just want you to keep doing this, fuck.”

“How could I stop when you’re taking me so well? Like you were made for me.” Dean’s hand slipped between your legs, pressing down on your lower stomach and getting you closer to the edge. He started kissing your neck again, running his tongue along the pulsating vein and lightly sucking on it. On his way down to your breasts, he kept biting your sensitive skin just enough to hear those sweet moans from you, marking you as his with the bite marks.

“Dean, please.”, you whined, slowly getting overwhelmed at the feeling of his cock ramming into you over and over, “I’m close.”

His hand went to grab your face again and he almost completely pulled out as he gazed at you, his breath coming shorter. He was close too. “Beg for it.”, he demanded. “Please make me cum.”

Right as you finished your sentence, Dean pushed himself in in one hard thrust and kept this harshness as he picked up the pace like before. Your nails dug into his back and shoulders as you held him close to you, almost screaming when his thumb circled around your clit again. You were so damn close to the edge already, and got sent over it as Dean grunted, “Good fucking girl.”

You came undone around him, his lips catching yours to keep you quiet as he kept penetrating with your walls squeezing around him. Dean cursed under his breath and quickly pulled out before coming on your stomach. You rested your foreheads against each other, needing to catch your breath again, coming down from your highs.

Dean leaned down to kiss you carefully, almost as if you could suddenly break apart beneath him. “We really just did that.”, you said to break the silence. Dean chuckled and nodded, “We sure did.”

You both sat up and Dean helped you get cleaned up. After a short trip to the bathroom, you both laid down on the bed again.

Dean grabbed your hips and made you straddle his lap, looking deep into your eyes, taking in all of your details. You caressed his face with your hands. “You know this wasn’t a one-time-thing, right?”, Dean asked, “I mean, I’m taking a big risk here, but fuck, the things you make me wanna do to you. I’m not gonna let you go.” “Easy, tiger, I’m not going anywhere.”, you chuckled, “I mean, I do have to get back for work soon, but… y’know. I think I’m gonna like being here even more from now on.”

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